


You Should Be Here

by fromacpho



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Poe Dameron/Finn, Gay Poe Dameron, M/M, Multi, Politics, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Space Opera, Spoilers for TFA, after tfa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromacpho/pseuds/fromacpho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn wakes up on D'Qar, but he is not alone; Poe Dameron is by his side. But there is little chance to figure out how he feels about Poe. The Resistance is splintering, the galaxy has been thrown into chaos by the destruction of the Hosnian system, Rey and Luke Skywalker are both missing, and the First Order has seemingly vanished. Everything is about to change, and Finn will be faced with choices he has never had to consider before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poe Dameron

The first thing Finn was aware of was the sound of his voice. It took some time before the awareness turned into something more, before the synapses fired and a name came to mind: _Poe Dameron_.

Finn said the name aloud. Only, his lips didn’t move, and no sound was produced. He tried again, and realized he wasn’t sure how to speak anymore, and didn’t seem aware of his lips or tongue. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing. But there was that voice, filling him up from the inside.

Finn tried to open his eyes, but the lids were too heavy, or he couldn’t even feel them. Slowly, he became aware that his entire body was distant. He could no more feel his toes than he could his heart beating in his chest. All he was aware of was that voice.

Finn began to focus on what was being said, and then he understood what was happening.

_He’s reading to me_.

“A stairway twisted away above them, reaching into the depths of a dark ceiling above. Four chandeliers hung low, secured somewhere on the cavernous ceiling above by delicate gold chains. ‘What do you think?’ said the contessa…”

Finn struggled to place what Poe was reading, before settling and losing himself in the words. Time passed, and Finn tried to let go of all the questions that swirled at the edges of his mind. He relaxed into knowing that this was probably a dream. He tried not to put too much thought into what it meant to be dreaming of Poe’s voice, and focused on the words again, searching for some hidden meaning, a link to some stolen conversation they’d had back at the base, before they had separated…

Nothing seemed to add up. If there was a hidden meaning in what Poe was reading, Finn had no idea what it was. Rather than let this reality plant seeds of panic, Finn found Poe’s voice washing over him again, in waves. He felt incredibly peaceful. Eventually, the questions in his mind faded, and then Poe’s voice did as well.

***

“Poe Dameron.” Finn spoke, and was not aware of it at first. But then it hit him, something was different about this thought. Lips had moved. Raspy vocal cords had vibrated in his chest. He had spoken.

“Finn?” An unfamiliar voice. Somewhere to his right.

Again, something new. He could localize the sound. And his breathing – damn it, the feeling of air in his lungs had never felt this powerful before. Finn tried again.

“Poe?”

“You did speak, I knew it.” The unfamiliar voice again, speaking almost in a whisper. “Finn, my name is Octavia. I’m a medic.” The voice paused, uncertainty lingered on her last words. “I know you must have a lot of questions, and I will answer some of them, to the best that I can, but I also need you to do a few tests for me. Does that sound okay?”

Finn registered her words. Medic. Questions. Tests.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Great. First, can you open your eyes for me?”

Once she asked, Finn became aware of the heaviness of his eyelids, and the eagerness of his eyes waiting behind them. With a small effort, he was able to pry them apart. Light flooded into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly.

“Oh, excellent. Thank you. It may take a few moments for you to adjust to the lights.” Octavia paused, waiting. “You must be wondering where you are: you’re at the medical centre on D’Qar. You’ve been looked after by the best medics the resistance has. You were injured in the mission, but you’re safe now.”

Finn’s eyes adjusted slowly, just as Octavia said. The room was dimly lit, he now realized, but even the low lighting around him seemed too vibrant. To his left stood a tall, long-limbed woman. A thick mane of black hair with streaks of silver surrounded her moon-shaped face. She was smiling. She stood next to a stiff-backed chair, the only piece of furniture in the room aside from the low bed Finn was lying on.

Octavia stepped towards him and stood at the side of his bed. She placed a cool hand into his right palm. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

The cool sensation of her fingers surprised him. Finn squeezed, reveling in his limited strength.

“Perfect.” Octavia smiled. Octavia moved to the end of his bed, and placed one hand against each foot. “Can you push against my hands with your feet?”

Finn did as instructed, receiving a satisfied nod from Octavia. Octavia moved through different body systems, slowly but steadily, assessing Finn’s levels of sensation, movement, and strength. Finn tested his voice some more, developing from a raw croak fit for some wild creature on a jungle planet, to a grating sound that more closely resembled his regular voice. With assistance, Finn was able to sit upright, with an extra pillow supporting his back. After ensuring he was comfortable, Octavia stood next to him. She smiled at him again, and paused, waiting. Finn hesitated.

“Poe?”

“Mr. Dameron? Yes, he usually comes in at about 1300 each day. He’s been here every day… You must have many more questions. I can answer some of them, but maybe you would like to wait for Mr. Dameron? He should be here in a few minutes.”

Finn thought. “Yes, I’ll wait. Thank you.” His voice still sounded raw.

“Of course. I take your leave, then.” Octavia turned, and left through an open door at the opposite end of the small room.

The moment Octavia’s footsteps faded, Finn became uncomfortably aware of all the questions swirling around in his mind. What had happened? Where was Rey? Was Rey okay? What happened to the weapon, the planet, the First Order? Had they really won? It certainly seemed that way, after all he was in the Resistance medical centre on D’Qar. How had he survived? What happened to Kylo Ren? And where was Poe?

Finn was breathing more rapidly, and he could feel his heart racing. Blood was rushing in his ears. He felt dizzy. Finn concentrated on his breath, struggling to take deep breaths. Eventually his heart rate slowed. The questions hovered at the edges of his mind, flitting in and out. Finn closed his eyes and began to doze.

***

Sometime later, hurried footsteps rang out in the hall, growing louder. Finn opened his eyes and stared at the empty open doorway.

A breathless man burst through into the room. His wavy dark hair clung to his forehead, beads of sweat glistening on his sharp brow. A shadow of stubble covered the lower half of his face and neck, and a brilliant smile spread across his face and lit up his lidded brown eyes.

_Poe Dameron_.


	2. One Hell of a Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Damn buddy. I’ve – we’ve been waiting on you for a while. I – we were all pretty worried about you,” said Poe.

“Finn!” Poe was breathless. He rushed forward and threw his arms around Finn’s neck, squeezing him tightly. Finn lifted his arms and with effort, grasped Poe’s back. He caught a whiff of engine fuel and something sweet and sweat. Finn groaned from the pressure and Poe released him.

“Damn – sorry buddy! I just can’t – they told me you were awake – wow this is just – well, here you are. Listen to me, just going on. You must have so many questions. How do you feel?”

“I’m alright, I’m alright now. Octavia tested me out, said everything seems good.”

“Octavia? I must not have met her. Damn buddy. I’ve – we’ve been waiting on you for a while. I – we were all pretty worried about you.”

Poe sat beside the bed on the straight-backed chair. “It’s quite a story, Finn. How you – you and Rey saved the day, saved the planet – the galaxy really –“

“Rey!” Finn interrupted. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

Poe’s eyes tightened, then he smiled big again and said, “She’s fine, of course Finn, she’s fine. She damn near killed that Kylo Ren and high-tailed it off that planet with you and Chewie just in time. She’s one hell of a pilot.”

_One hell of a pilot._

Finn felt relief flood through him as Poe told him the rest of the story. Finn interrupted frequently, and soon realized that there were still many holes in the story. It had been two weeks, but the Resistance still didn’t have any data on the surviving forces of the First Order.

“There’s something else. I’m not sure if you remember.” Poe’s eyes glistened. “About Solo.”

Finn looked away. His eyes burned and the room, Poe’s face, swam before him. He barely knew the man. He barely knew him. He felt the pain of that moment and blood pounded in his ears as it replayed in his mind; watching from above, Rey beside him, as Kylo Ren struck down his father, and threw away Solo’s body like it was an old rag. 

Finn felt two warm, calloused hands grasp his own. Poe squeezed tight, and Finn blinked several times. A few fat tears escaped his eyes and slid down his cheeks.

“We all feel it, Finn. But not like you. You and Rey, and Chewie. You were there.” Poe’s hands squeezed again, and then Poe reached up, and brushed at the tears that streaked down Finn’s face. Poe’s fingers lingered, stroking Finn’s cheek lightly, before he pulled away quickly. Poe looked away.

Finn stared at him, and the memory of his voice came drifting back towards him. “You came to see me.” It was not a question. “You read to me.” Poe nodded slowly, still not looking at him. Neither of them moved, and Finn felt afraid to even breathe.

“I wasn’t sure what to read, at first. I wasn’t sure what you would like.”

“Well, I don’t remember much of it, but I did – I did enjoy it. For a while, it was the only thing I…”

Poe looked up and their eyes held each other for a long moment.

“I’m really glad you’re awake –,” Poe’s voice broke, and he squeezed his eyes shut, though a few tears also found their way down over his high cheek bones. “We lost a lot of good people, and the thought of…”

“Poe, I --,” Finn stopped, interrupted by many footsteps growing louder in the hall. Poe took the opportunity to discreetly wipe his face and stood abruptly, clearing his throat. Octavia, General Organa and another man Finn did not know entered the room. Organa smiled widely.

“Finn.”

“General,” said Finn.

“General,” Poe interjected, “I was just briefing Finn on the current situation. He had a few questions --,” Organa held up a hand and Poe stopped.

“Of course. I merely came to see you for myself and to wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you, General,” said Finn.

“Of course. When you’ve been cleared by the chief medical officer, you’ll have an important decision to make. I’ll leave you two now, I trust Poe will answer any of your questions. I look forward to our next meeting, Finn.” General Organa’s teeth flashed in a smile, and Finn noticed the strain evident in sustaining it. She turned and left, Octavia and the other attendant following her.

Before their footsteps had faded, Poe had launched into the rest of the story, answering questions before Finn could even ask them. His face glowed as he talked about how thanks to the charges Solo and Chewie set, he had been able to destroy the oscillator, causing a chain reaction that consumed the entire planet. The First Order’s weapon was defeated. Poe finished by telling him about Rey’s mission.

“That was more than two weeks ago now. We haven’t received any word from her, R2 or Chewie yet, at least not as far as the General has been willing to tell me.”

Finn felt anger rising within him. “How could she send them alone? What if something happened to them? What if the remnants of the First Order found them? How can we know she’s safe – they’re safe?”

Poe nodded. “Well, so far we have very little about what’s happened to the First Order. Some have been celebrating their defeat, but the General and a few others don’t believe they’ve actually gone, and of course the destruction of the Hosnian system and most of the infrastructure of the republic has thrown everything into chaos…” Poe trailed off.

“It sounds like a big mess.”

“Yeah. But things are starting to look up already.” Poe flashed that brilliant smile and held Finn’s gaze. Finn felt himself growing warm, and looked away. It was so much to think about. He felt overwhelmed. “Damn, I’m sorry Finn. Is this too much for you right now? I’m so sorry, I should have paced things better rather than just dump all of this all over you.” Finn waved a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay, I wanted to know. Thank you Poe, for…for everything. I think I might just take a little nap.”

“Of course buddy, you need your rest. I’ll go.” Poe lurched to his feet.

“No – I mean, could you stay? A few minutes? I…I’m a bit scared I might not wake up again.”

Poe’s forehead creased and he held Finn’s gaze. “Anything – I mean, yes. Yes, I can stay. Of course I can stay, buddy.”

“Just – stop calling me buddy okay? You gave me my name, so you might as well use it.”

“Yeah, of course. Finn. I’ll stay Finn.”

Finn closed his eyes and felt darkness embrace him, but before he slipped away he felt Poe’s calloused hands wrap around his hand and squeeze tightly. But then, there was darkness.


	3. Scars Will Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh don’t you worry about that my friend, your first night out of Octavia’s prison cell here is going to be the night of your life," said Poe.

Three weeks passed, and Finn got stronger every day. He regained lost strength through daily exercises with Octavia, who provided gentle but firm encouragement and support. The first few days, Poe spent hours with him each day, providing support as he began to take his first steps, walking in circles around the small room and then for small trips down the halls. Poe often took over from Octavia placing a firm arm around Finn’s waist and grasping his arm and they walked together.

But it had been many days since Finn had seen Poe. Two weeks ago, Poe had been in a distant mood, and his laughter didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did. Finn was surprised at how easily he could already read this man.

“Poe, what’s going on?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Poe, come on. You can tell me. After all, you’ve helped me take my first steps, caught me during my first almost-fall, annoyed the hell out of poor Octavia.” They laughed. “Really, what’s bothering you?”

“I’ve been given an assignment.”

Finn’s face fell. “Oh.” Poe avoided his eyes. “What is it?”

Poe glanced at him, then looked away. “I can’t tell you about it, Finn, I’m sorry, I tried to talk to them –“

“It’s fine, I understand.”

“I’ll be gone for at least a couple of weeks. But I’ll be back, Finn, I promise. And then you’ll be so strong, I’m sure you’ll be out of this place and ready for – ready for anything.”

Finn struggled to smile reassuringly. “Yeah, me too.”

“I’m sorry, Finn. I want to tell you more.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. But remember, you promised to take me out and show me more of the base once I’m out of here.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that my friend, your first night out of Octavia’s prison cell here is going to be the night of your life.”

“Every time you say that my expectations go up, you know.”

 “Doesn’t trouble me at all, I’m ready for you.” Poe raised his eyebrows.

They both laughed and Finn’s face grew hot as he locked eyes with Poe.

The memory of that look caused Finn to blush even now. He had tried to focus on his physical recovery these past two weeks, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Poe’s lidded eyes, his raised eyebrows, and the way he had wiped the tears from his cheek that first day he woke up. They never spoke about that moment, and Finn still didn’t know what it meant.

“Okay Finn, let’s do another ten reps of those squats, alright?” Octavia pulled him back into the present. Her voice was soft but firm, an approach Finn found very therapeutic the past two weeks, but it still paled in comparison to laughing with Poe.

 “Ten? I’ve already done thirty Octavia, you’re trying to kill me. Even the Stormtroopers weren’t this bad!”

She smiled at him. “Mhmm. Ten.”

Finn picked up the weights from the floor and began his squats, as Octavia counted them aloud beside him.

“So, I suppose -- there’s no news from you -- again today?” Finn said between breaths.

“Four. Good, nice and slow. Well, now that you mention it. Five. I may have heard something.”

“What?” Finn gasped, dropping the weights. “Octavia you can’t just throw something like that out at me!”

“Five more,” she said, smiling.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Octavia, please!”

“Five more.”

Finn grimaced, reached down for the weights, and counted out the last five squats with exaggerated slowness.

“Okay,” said Finn, gasping for breath. “Now. Out with it. What is it? They’ve found the First Order? General Organa is going to lead a new Republic? Is there word from Rey? Or Poe?”

She smiled, “I heard that a certain lead pilot will be returning this evening. That’s all, no names, but I think you can figure out which one it is.”

“Poe.”

Octavia smiled a knowing smile. She shrugged and turned to leave. Pausing at the door, Octavia said, “One last thing. The chief medical officer Undulil will be around in about a half hour to assess you for discharge. Congratulations.”

Before Finn could react, Octavia was gone. Finn let out an uncontrollable shout of joy and clapped his hands together, shouting, “Finally!” Octavia’s light laughter echoed down the hall.

The chief medical officer was much younger than Octavia seemed to be. Finn had waited impatiently after Octavia left. Every second dragged, until Finn was sure the chief was at least an hour late. Finally, in walked a Zabrak woman with closely cropped violet hair and several short horns around the crown of her head. She greeted Finn warmly and proceeded to do a quick assessment, verifying that he had gained strength and inspecting the healing progress of his back, which was marked with a bright pink scar that extended from the base of his neck to his buttocks.

“I’m sorry to say it, Finn, but it seems you will likely have this scar for the rest of your life.” Finn nodded. “It may fade, but it has not responded to any of our efforts this far.”

“I understand chief.”

She nodded. “Well, then. I’m happy to say I can clear you to go, Finn. Congratulations. If you are able, I’d like to see you in six weeks again to monitor your progress. Now, I am to convey a message from the General: she wishes to meet with you, immediately if you are available.”

A young attendant escorted Finn through the halls of the medical centre until he found himself back near the command centre where they had planned the attack on the Starkiller Base. The place was bustling, but tense, and seemed somehow less populated than it had been before the attack. Finn’s chest tightened as he passed by where he had stood with Rey, Poe, Solo, Chewie, the General and the others, planning the attack on the First Order. He took a deep breath and quickened his pace to keep up with the attendant.

“General Organa is waiting inside.”


	4. A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want you to think carefully about what I’m going to tell you. And I want you to wait until tomorrow morning before giving me your answer. Can you do that for me, Finn?”

“General Organa is waiting inside.” The attendant left. Finn touched a panel and the door opened. The General was seated behind a tall desk, facing the door. The room was lit by a small, old-fashioned lamp on the desk and a dimmed sconce in the opposite wall. There were two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, and the walls were all free of any art. The General closed a console, looked up and smiled at him, and again he noted the weariness in her gaze.

“Yes, Finn. Come in, please.” He entered, the door closing behind him. “Take a seat.” He sat gingerly in the nearest chair, hands resting on his knees.

“Thank you General. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I see you’ve made a full recovery. I’m pleased. Before we get to business, I wanted to…” She was staring at a point on the wall just behind Finn’s head. She shifted her gaze and met his eyes. “I wanted to acknowledge what you saw, at the Starkiller Base.”

“General –,”

“You saw my son, kill his father, Han Solo.” Her words hung heavily in the space between them. “And then my son attacked you and Rey.” Finn was still. General Organa’s shoulders sagged under the weight of her words. “I can’t apologize for his actions, but I feel it is important to acknowledge them…and to acknowledge the pain his actions have caused you, Finn.”

Finn nodded. The General studied his face. “But that’s only part of the reason why I wanted to see you Finn. I want to offer you a choice.”

“I want to join the Resistance –.” The General held up a hand to silence him.

“I want you to think carefully about what I’m going to tell you. And I want you to wait until tomorrow morning before giving me your answer. Can you do that for me, Finn?”

He swallowed and nodded.

“Good. The Resistance is splintering, and after tonight I will no longer be General Organa. There are several reasons why this is happening, some of which you can guess, others you cannot understand yet, but I am being pushed out, and perhaps it is my time. I have made many mistakes. There are forces within and outside the Resistance who are preparing to seize the opportunity presented by the destruction of the New Republic and the disappearance of the First Order. There is a vacuum in the galaxy, and the actions of a few carry the future of billions of lives and hundreds of worlds. Do you understand me, Finn?” Organa paused, studying his face. “I want to offer you a choice. First, you can walk away from here, leave this mess behind, and forge your own path in the galaxy. I’m sure you must have dreamed of this kind of freedom trapped on that ship, and now I want to offer it to you, as repayment for what you witnessed. If you choose this option, I will provide you with safe passage from D’Qar to the system of your choice, and I will do my best to make sure factions of the Resistance do not trouble you.” Organa continued. “Your second option is to stay here and make your way in the Resistance,” Finn started to speak and General Organa held up a hand again, and continued,” Or whatever the Resistance will become. I suspect it will take the shape of something not so far removed from the Empire we defeated only a few short decades ago. There are forces inside and outside this organization working as I speak to you now to make this happen, and power has shifted so that there is nothing more I can do from where I stand now, which brings me to the last option. I am leaving the Resistance, with a small group of trusted friends and allies. Our mission remains the same: to find my brother, bring him back, and hunt down whatever remains of the First Order.”

“Can I speak?” Finn spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yes, I’m finished. Speak freely.”

“I don’t understand. Why abandon the Resistance? Why not salvage what you can of it? You built this group, didn’t you? Why would you abandon it?”

“Quite simply, Finn, I have failed. I no longer have respect or trust. The internal politics of the Resistance have been working to usurp me for some time, and now they have their opportunity.”

“And what opportunity is that?”

“The Resistance will become the next Republic, as soon as I am out of the picture that is. Only time will determine what path that will lead this group down, but I have seen enough to know that those who experience some power often seek more, and there is no peace and no justice when an authority asserts itself over others with violence.”

“But what about the Jedi? Won’t the Resistance still try to find your brother?”

General Organa folded her hands in front of her. “If they do, it won’t be for his own good.”

“What about Rey? You’ll just let her come back to this mess without knowing what’s changing? Will she be safe coming back here?”

“I don’t have the answer to that Finn. I’ve done my best to give Rey what warning I can, but there is no way to know at this point what path she will take.” Finn sank back into the chair. “I know this is a lot, Finn. I can arrange safe passage for you for tomorrow, but beyond that I can guarantee you nothing. I want to be as honest with you as I can be.”

Finn nodded. “So, will you and your crew be looking for your son?” His words were sharp. General Organa stiffened, then she sighed.

“Yes, Finn. It is still my goal to recover my son from Snoke.” Finn stood abruptly, the chair scraping across the floor.

“I think I’ve heard enough. Thank you General.” Finn extended his hand. General Organa stood, and clasped his hand, holding his gaze for a moment before he swept from the room.

Finn walked quickly though the base, turning corner after corner, unsure where he was going. His head was spinning with what the General had just told him. He needed to breathe. Finn passed through hall after hall, turning at random, faces blurred and he recognized no one. Eventually, he found himself in a large dark hangar, sparingly lit with a few dim wall sconces. Crates were piled high into rows, some covered with canvas cloth. The hangar was quiet. Finn sat down hard on a crate and cradled his head between his hands. Tears came, heavily, and his shoulders shook as sobs wracked through him.


	5. And To Our Fleet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Takodana, he had been brought back by Rey, but it had also been the Resistance, and the sight of those X-wings gliding across the lake, whirling through the air, and incinerating First Order ships and ground troops alike.
> 
> But Rey was gone now, and he wasn’t sure if or when he would see her again, and the Resistance was changing into something he didn’t yet understand.
> 
> But where would he go?

Finn woke up some time later, and it took a few seconds before he remembered where he was and what had happened. He had fallen asleep on the crate, exhausted by the tears he had spent earlier. Finn sat up and stared at his hands. His mind was mostly cleared, but he still didn’t know what to do. He’d never been given choices like this before. He could just leave, it’s what he had wanted back on Takodana. He had been prepared to leave then, he had only returned because of Rey. He turned the memories of that decision over and over in his head. It was not all that long ago, but it already seemed a lifetime away. He still understood the reasons for leaving, could still touch that visceral fear of being captured by the First Order. He was certain, like the General – Organa, seemed to be: they had not seen the last of the First Order. On Takodana, he had been brought back by Rey, but it had also been the Resistance, and the sight of those X-wings gliding across the lake, whirling through the air, and incinerating First Order ships and ground troops alike.

But Rey was gone now, and he wasn’t sure if or when he would see her again, and the Resistance was changing into something he didn’t yet understand.

But where would he go?

Finn rubbed his eyes and stood. He walked out of the hangar and attempted to retrace his steps, but soon found he was hopelessly lost. It was late, and it took time before he ran into another member of the Resistance. Eventually he was directed outside, and made his way out into the open air.

It was very dark. A breath of cool air teased his face. Finn looked up at the unfamiliar stars overhead, and realized it was the first time he had seen them from this planet. In that moment, Finn made his decision.

A group of ten or fifteen people burst through a door a few yards to his right, Resistance members blowing off some steam. Finn noticed a rotund droid trailing the group, beeping loudly. He would know that droid anywhere.

“BB-8!” Finn shouted. The droid halted and turned its small head towards him. BB-8 beeped excitedly and whirled away from the group and over towards him. Finn dropped to one knee. “I knew that was you, buddy! It’s great to see you, I needed to see a friendly face just now.”

“Finn?”

A tall, dark-haired man pushed his way out of the group and ran towards him, pushing his hair back from his face. Poe grabbed Finn and wrapped his arms tightly around his torso. Finn gasped and he breathed in sweat, engine fuel, and that sweet smell he just couldn’t seem to place.

“Poe Dameron!” He finally managed, clutching the man tightly, realizing it was the first time they had embraced since he had woken in the medical clinic. Poe’s entire body enveloped him and Finn didn’t know if he’d ever been held like this before.

Someone in the group Finn had broken off of whistled and others burst into laughter. Poe let go of Finn and gave him a sheepish look.

“I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you. As soon as I gave my report to the General, but no one had seen you,” Poe said breathlessly. His face was red, and Finn realized he had been drinking. “I – I wanted to see – well it seems like you’ve made a full recovery.”

“Yeah, chief says I should be fine. Always have the scar though.”

Poe’s face darkened. The group had ceased their hollering and was leaving. BB-8 beeped several times at their feet. “BB-8’s right, where were you?”

“I needed…to be alone. I met with the General.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me about that, won’t you?” Poe’s eyes flashed. “But first, we need to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Your freedom, Finn!” BB-8 whirred at their feet. “BB-8 and I thought that Octavia would never let you out of her clutches!”

They laughed, the tension broke, and BB-8 circled around them, chattering excitedly. “BB-8’s right – you need a drink!”

“BB-8 did not say that.”

“Maybe they did and maybe they didn’t.” Poe grabbed Finn’s hand, pulling him in the direction the others had left. “Come on, we were just heading over to Hangar 12 for some drinks.” Poe saw the apprehensive look on Finn’s face and winked. “My treat?”

“Okay.”

Light poured from the open door of the hangar, and the sounds of music, laughter, and general carousing drifted out into the cool night air. At the door BB-8 whirred and beeped and took off in the direction of another hangar. Poe laughed and shrugged, pulling Finn through the door. Inside, the hangar had been filled with arrangements of tables, crates, and stools and a bar had been fashioned from a number of abandoned consoles. The hangar was bustling with activity, as groups of engineers, mechanics, technicians, and other lower level Resistance staff packed around tables drinking, smoking, and playing some card game Finn had not seen before. A curtain hung across the hangar, dividing the normally cavernous space and giving it a more intimate feel. A few foot soldiers in one corner were playing a few instruments, producing a bracing tune that invigorated the room.

Poe pulled Finn through the bustle to where the pilots Poe had been walking with had pulled together several tables to accommodate the group. They cheered as Poe and Finn approached and cleared to make space at the table. Before Finn sat, Poe had pushed a drink into his hand and someone began to make a speech, “Cheers, to the return of the best pilot in the Resistance!”

“For as long as we can keep him!” Laughter erupted as shouts echoed out across the room, the toasting spread, and Finn found himself gulping down the harsh clear liquid in this cup. Poe embraced each of the pilots in turn, going around the table until he took a seat next to Finn. Poe clapped him on the back, and his hand lingered there as he refilled Finn’s glass with the other.

“This night isn’t just for me now, folks. We’re celebrating my friend here, Finn, who fought the First Order and made the destruction of the Starkiller Base possible.” The tone around the table shifted, laughter disappeared from many of the faces and hard lines streaked several faces. “Without Finn and the others, we never would have succeeded. We owe him our lives.” Finn felt his face grow hot under the stares of the pilots around the tables, and those from nearby tables who had sensed the shifting moods and leaned closer. “To Finn!”

“And to our fleet,” said a dark-haired woman seated to Finn’s right. “To all of our dead – the siblings we left behind. To Finn and the fleet!”

The table cheered in unison, and several voices rang out behind them. They all drank. Finn felt shame slide down his throat with the liquor. He was here, when so many were not, so many he had not even given a thought about these past few weeks. Sheepishly he began to notice the obvious pain in the faces around him, the reddened eyes, creased foreheads, strained necks and heavy shoulders around the table. He became acutely aware of the number of faces seated around them – hardly a dozen pilots. Surely this couldn’t be all who had survived?

Had he even asked Poe for details about what happened? He had certainly asked, he was sure of that. But what exactly had Poe said? He searched his memory for that first conversation at his bedside. Poe had emphasized his role, and Han and Chewie, he had barely mentioned the fleet. Sure, he and Rey had witnessed the battle from the planet’s surface. They had seen the X-wing’s manoeuvering through a swarm of TIE fighter. He had barely paused to look at the sky, he had been so focused on getting Rey out of there. She had been staring up at the sky, in the fading light of the drained sun, as the icy wind sliced through their thin layers. He had grasped her small hand, pulled her away, and up the ladder, to where they watched as Han Solo was struck down by his son…

Finn shuddered, wrapped both hands around his cup, and stared into its contents. He felt a hand on his shoulder; Poe was searching his face. Finn looked away. “Finn, I want you to meet someone. Testor!” The dark-haired woman who had just spoken turned toward them. “Finn this is Testor, Testor Finn. She’s one of best pilots in the Resistance, and you’ve already heard about Finn.”

Testor held out a hand, a steely expression on her face. Finn grasped it. She dropped his hand and returned to the conversation on her other side. Poe leaned in, and whispered in Finn’s ear. “Sorry. She’s just – well everyone is still dealing with what happened. We lost a lot of good people, and the Resistance hasn’t done much for us since it happened.”

The musicians changed, a more upbeat tune started. The table of pilots cheered, and several stood up and began to dance, many were very drunk. Poe stood.

“I think this is going to get messy. Why don’t we find a quieter spot?” Finn agreed, relieved to escape the tension and underlying pain around them. As he stood, Testor was the only one who turned to notice. Her steely expression softened and Finn thought she might have flashed him a smile, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and then Poe was pulling him through the crowd. Poe stopped at the bar, grabbed a tall bottle of liquor and clapped the bartender on the back before they were out in the night air again.


	6. Wait For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There you go, helping me balance when I can’t trust my feet again," said Finn.

Walking made Finn acutely aware of how many glasses he had finished at the table. As he looked up, the stars above them swam dizzyingly and Finn lurched unsteadily. Poe grabbed his elbow, “Whoa! You okay there buddy?”

“There you go, helping me balance when I can’t trust my feet again.”

“I think maybe we were a little bit too ambitious back there.”

“No, I’m fine! Just still figuring out how to walk and talk outside of Octavia’s cell.” Finn laughed.

“Are you sure? Maybe I should take you to your bunk.”

“No! I’m sure, I’m fine, come on, where are you taking me now?” Finn placed his hard on the small of Poe’s back.

Poe led him across the plaza past some of the abandoned buildings from the old Alliance base. They began to climb a hill that was covered in spiky grass that teased their ankles. Poe paused at the peak and as Finn joined him, he saw the Resistance base spread out to their left and a series of forested, rolling hills extending away to their right. In the distance, dark jagged shadows jutted into the sky, blocking out the stars on the edge of the horizon. They stood side by side, breathing steadily, cool air caressing their faces.

“It’s beautiful,” said Finn.

“Wait for it.”

A pinprick of blue light appeared over the top of the distant mountain peaks. It grew steadily, until a large blue comet broke away from the peaks, unmoored at last it hung in the sky, its surface rippling.

“I thought you might like it…” Finn struggled to find words to express how he felt. For so long, his life had been consumed with the rigid patterns of the First Order, from the education and conditioning to the frequently shifting work assignments, relationships and friendships had been near impossible to establish, and there had never been much space to spend time with another trooper.

Finn’s first real friendship was with FN-2000 – Zeroes. Some of his earliest memories included Zeroes. The two of them had gone through their initial childhood conditioning together. Back then, Zeroes had a bright pink scar on his right cheek, and Finn had been drawn to him because of it. Where others saw a history of violence and wanted to distance themselves from it, afraid that perhaps Zeroes had gained the scar when he had killed another child and then been recruited, Finn was drawn to Zeroes because his scar provided a constant reassurance that there had been something _before_ the First Order. He never asked Zeroes about the scar, and Zeroes never told him anything about it. They were forbidden from talking about the past, and any mention of a time before the First Order could earn you six weeks of the strictest reconditioning regimen. Over time, the scar on Zeroes’ cheek had faded.

Finn’s only other real friendships had been with the others in his unit: FN-2199 – Nines, who died after trying to kill him on Takodana – and FN-2003 – Slip, who died on Jakku. He had called both of them friend at one time, and they had spent most of the past few years of their lives together, in combat simulations and training schedules, but he still felt he barely knew them. He shuddered as he remembered their deaths and squeezed his fists at his sides.

Finn sat down hard on the spiky grass and Poe sat next to him. Poe took a swig from the bottle and passed it to him. Finn lifted the bottle to his lips and wiped his mouth after taking several gulps.

“Thank you,” he said finally.

“So you like it?” Poe looked anxious. Finn realized he needed to say something.

“Yes, of course, like it – I love it – this – this is so incredible, Poe, I – I don’t know what to say…”

Poe leaned closer and wrapped an arm around him. Finn felt dizzy, again, but he wasn’t sure it was just the alcohol. He leaned into Poe, resting against his shoulder. “I hate this feeling Poe. I feel like I have no idea what’s going to happen. I feel like everything is about to change and I haven’t even got my footing yet.”

Poe picked up Finn’s hand and held it in his own. “Yeah. I get that.” Finn pulled back his hand and sat up. “I think it’s time to turn in,” said Poe, “It’s been a long day for you.”

Finn pushed himself away and stood. He reached down and helped pull Poe to his feet. They both brushed stray stalks of grass off themselves. The light of the comet shone above them, bathing the base and surrounding hills in an aquatic glow. Finn noticed the way the light reflected in Poe’s eyes. They began walking quickly down the hill, stumbling on the way. Walking sent a rush of blood to Finn’s head and the unfamiliar stars spinning overhead didn’t help him find his balance.

“Okay, I’ve got to get you to your bunk. Where did they put you?”

“I… I don’t know. They didn’t put me anywhere.” Finn laughed. “I’m nowhere.”

“Okay,” said Poe, seriously. “You’re with me, then. Come.”

 


	7. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Poe,” said Finn, solemnly, “Where were you? Where did you go? What was the mission?”

Finn woke, head pounding. He hesitated before opening his eyes, prematurely trying to limit stimuli, but the pounding around his ears quickly overcame him and he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room. He blinked in the light, but the brightness was not unpleasant, rather it served to distract him from the pulsing pain behind his ears. Finn was lying on a firm mattress, under soft green sheets. Sunlight poured in through two windows on the far right wall, framed by three sturdy, white bookshelves.

Finn sat up gingerly and glancing around the room saw Poe lying on the floor, in a tangle of black sheets, still asleep. His arms were arranged under his head, and his chest rose and fell gently. Finn smiled, then grimaced as his head pulsed with pain again. He carefully extricated himself from the bedclothes, found his shirt and pants on the floor, briefly pausing to wonder at whether he or Poe had taken them off, and stumbled over to the sink to fill a glass of water.

After finishing two glasses, Finn leaned with his back against the sink to take in more of his surroundings. A low lounge chair was nestled against one of the windows. The bookshelves arranged around the windows were overflowing with books, both ancient tomes and shiny new volumes. The bed took up most of the far wall, enveloping more than half of the room. The only other pieces of furniture were a desk and chair, littered with books and unused consoles.

Finn sat on the bed, wrapping the blanket around him. The pulsing behind his ears was fading. He studied Poe’s face, and his thoughts drifted to the comet, rising over the mountains, and the way Poe had wrapped his arm around him. Finn felt warm and let the blankets slide from around his shoulders. With effort, he tore himself away and stood to gaze out the window. The base was bustling, and General Organa’s words came back to him: _I can arrange safe passage for you for tomorrow, but beyond that I can guarantee you nothing._

Tomorrow was here, and he’d made his decision.

Poe stirred behind him.

“Damn. Oh damn,” Poe groaned. “Finn? If my head feels this bad I don’t want to even imagine how yours feels right now.”

“Here, take a few sips of this, helped me out loads.” Finn handed him a glass of water. Poe propped himself up and accepted the glass.

“Gods, Finn, do you have to shout like that?” Finn grinned. The blankets slipped off Poe’s rippling chest and his throat pulsed as he gulped down the glass of water. Poe wiped his mouth and grinned at Finn, catching his eyes on him. “Can you pass me my shirt?”

“Huh?”

“My shirt? It’s behind you.”

“Oh, yeah. Here.” Finn blushed. Poe pulled the shirt over his head and smoothed his hair. “Poe,” said Finn, solemnly, “Where were you? Where did you go? What was the mission?”

“Starting the day with the big questions, I see.”

“Sorry, Poe, but I need to know.”

“Need to know?”

“Yes. I need to know.”

“Okay, you going to tell me why you suddenly ‘need to know’ classified information?” Poe sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him.

Finn pulled out the desk chair and sat. “Organa told me. She told me the Resistance is splintering. She gave me a choice.”

Poe nodded. “So, what did you decide?”

Finn hesitated. Everything was going to change. “I need to wait for Rey.” Poe looked away. “She doesn’t know what she’s coming back to! What if she’s in trouble or needs help? She’ll need an ally here someone she can trust.”

Poe stood and walked over to the nearest window. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

“She’s my friend.”

Poe pushed the hair back from his forehead. “General Organa sent me on a mission. As far as the Resistance was concerned, I was to take a personal message to Senator Kath, one of the few members of the Republic who survived the attack on the Hosnian System and who was supportive of the Resistance.”

Finn thought about this. “You seem like an unlikely messenger to me.”

Poe smiled slyly. “You caught me there. The General gave me additional instructions to reach out to Rey – and to tell no one.”

Finn shivered, goose pimples covering his forearms. He waited.

“I was to warn her, to advise her not to return to D’Qar, and to give instructions that she could contact the General another way… But I failed to make contact.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I failed, Finn. I don’t know if she got the message.”

“Because she couldn’t?”

Poe sighed. “I don’t have the answer to that Finn.”

Finn shook his head. “So now what?”

The door behind him suddenly whirred open, and BB-8 sped in, beeping insistently, their head spinning around the room before they stopped at Poe’s feet. Poe leaned down and said, “Slow down, buddy! What’s happening?” BB-8 beeped and whirred loudly, moving back and forth anxiously. Poe frowned. “Damn, thanks buddy. Well, you’ve made your choice Finn, and I’ve made mine. I’ve got to move – _now_.”

“What? You’re going? What did BB-8 say?”

“They said the Resistance is about to arrest General Organa for treason, which means I won’t be far behind. It’s time for me to go.” Poe rushed around the room as he said this, grabbing gear, pulling a vest over his head and boots onto his feet. BB-8 followed him, beeping erratically.

“Treason!” Finn stood up, in disbelief. He had made his decision, nothing had changed. Or had it? Poe had been unable to reach Rey, which meant – what exactly? That she was beyond reach? That she was not coming back? That she was coming back to some kind of trap? What exactly would the Resistance have planned for her? What would they have planned for _him_?

Poe paused and Finn stared at him, helplessly. Poe’s hair was sticking up in the back again, and a dark stubble shadowed the lower half of his face, framing his pink lips. A crease had formed in between Poe’s dark brows. “Poe, I –.”

Poe stopped, and glanced at him. Then he moved towards the closet, and rummaged inside it for a moment. He pulled out the leather jacket. It looked like new and there was only a faint sign that it had been torn nearly in half, along with Finn’s spine, by Kylo Ren’s lightsaber.

“I had it repaired. For you,” Poe said. He wasn’t looking at him. He spread the coat on the bed and smoothed it out. He paused again. “Wear it. For me.” Poe looked up at him. His eyes shone.

Poe took two quick strides over to Finn, grabbed the back of his head, and kissed him full on the mouth. His mouth was warm and wet, and still tasted of the bitter alcohol they’d consumed the night before. Finn inhaled sharply as Poe’s tongue probed his mouth. Finn raised his hands, and grasped at Poe’s side, and then Poe abruptly pushed him away. His voice was hard, but his eyes betrayed the pain behind his words. “You’re a good man Finn. I hope we meet again.”

And then he strode out the door, trailed by BB-8.


	8. A Dream and a Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t play with me Dameron. I know it’s bad,” said Finn quietly.

Poe woke with a start. He was breathing heavily, tangled up in a loose sheet on his bunk, damp hair clinging to his scalp. He struggled to free himself from the blanket and swung down from his berth, feet landing softly on the cool floor. He crept over to his closet, where he pulled out a series of soiled jumpsuits before finding a fresh one and gingerly shifting into it, tugging it up to his waist.

Poe caught sight of himself in the mirror across the room, dim light providing enough illumination to cover his face in shadows. He had dark circles under his eyes, and a line creased his forehead. His facial hair had gone untended for several days, and had already grown into a thick, dark beard. Poe pushed his arms through the sleeves of the suit, and zipped it up in the front. Pausing to smooth his hair, he slid out the door and made his way to the flight deck.

It was early. Testor was still piloting the graveyard shift, and she smiled over at him. “Thought I recognized the sounds of your footsteps. Couldn’t sleep again?”

Poe laughed. “You think you know me so well, Jess.”

“Only because I do.”

Poe ran his fingers through his hair, messing it again. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not much. Ran across a conflict involving some refugees from the Hosnian system, but Organa was here and took care of it.”

“Wow, even when she’s on the run she can’t help but make a pit-stop to mediate a conflict.”

“I’d hardly call it a pit-stop. We barely paused for two hours.”

“Hmm. She tell you to say that?”

Testor turned back to the consoles in front of her, and began to tie up her dark hair in a knot on top of her head.

“I can take over for you now, Jess, you can turn in early.”

Testor brushed a few strands of hair to the floor. “I still have a few hours left. _You_ should try to get some more sleep.”

“Nope, not happening for me. Come on, you know you could use the rest.” He flashed a smile at her.

She relented, and squeezed his shoulder before leaving him alone. Poe paced around the deck, vaguely inspecting equipment, consoles, and screens as he went. Eventually he sat down in the seat Testor had vacated, jiggling his knee anxiously.

It was the same dream. These past two weeks it was always the same dream. He was sitting on that hill, Finn was leaning against him. Above them the blue comet hung in the sky. It was beautiful. Finn leaned into him, and he could smell him, that sharp fresh scent of a new body, reminding him of the pink skies at twilight over Yavin 4, back home. Then, the comet grew larger and brighter, and Finn faded from his arms as his surroundings shifted, the comet becoming a bright light over his head, four metal walls closing him in, and he realized he was locked into the interrogation chamber aboard the First Order Star Destroyer. Kylo Ren was in front of him, hand stretched, reaching into his mind and laughing, stealing the moment with Finn from him. Kylo Ren didn’t speak in the dream, he only laughed, and the laughter told him that Finn was in trouble. He knew that Kylo Ren had Finn, that he was not safe. The dream usually ended with the realization that he was imprisoned in the interrogation chamber, that he could do nothing to help Finn. Poe would wake somewhere around here, feeling exhausted and terrified that Finn was in danger and there was nothing he could do to help.

Poe stared through the glass as stars slowly passed by, painfully aware that every moment the ship grew further and further away from D’Qar and from Finn.

He struggled to push him from his mind, but the curve of his ear, his heady smile, the sound of laughter filling up the space between them, they all jostled against each other and refused to be dismissed. Poe couldn’t help but remember one morning in the medical wing, when Finn was still re-learning how to walk. Poe had brought in a new book, and read two chapters from it while Finn ate his morning rations and sipped on stale coffee. When Poe paused in the reading, he caught sight of Finn’s face, and he had a faraway look in his eyes.

“Am I boring you?” Poe asked nervously. Internally, he kicked himself: he was never nervous, and certainly never let it show if he was.

“What? Of course not, Poe, sorry, I just zoned out for a minute. Can you re-read that last bit? From the conversation when the newbie walks into the lounge?”

Poe hesitated. “Later,” he said, “Let’s get you up and out of this bed.”

“You sure? I’m sorry Poe, I just had…”

“Another nightmare last night?” Finn looked at him. Poe put down the book and busied himself getting Finn’s slippers to the side of the low bed. “Come on, let’s get you up old man.”

“Hey! You better watch out, this old man is going to make a comeback. I think he might even be a match for the legendary Mr. Dameron.”

Poe grinned, reaching out his hand. As Finn leaned forward, resting on the edge of the bed, feet poised over his slippers, the thin medical gown opened slightly in the back and Poe caught a glimpse of the furious pink scar that laced its way down Finn’s back. Poe flinched reflexively.

Finn paused at the edge of the bed, breathing deeply. “That bad, is it?”

Poe stumbled. “No, no, of course not, I just –,”

“Don’t play with me Dameron. I know it’s bad,” said Finn quietly.

“It looks painful.”

“It isn’t. Not now.”

Poe stumbled. “Finn, I didn’t – it doesn’t --,”

“It’s okay, Poe. I just haven’t really… looked at it yet. And Octavia seems immune, she has no reaction, I guess she changed so many dressings that it must look practically normal to her now. You’re the only one who’s seen it. Besides… besides Rey.” A long silence passed between them. Poe realized he was still holding Finn’s hand. His hand was large, warm, and smooth, firmly grasping Poe’s calloused, slender fingers.

“Do you want to see it?” Poe asked, finally, hesitant to break the silence without understanding its meaning. “I can get a mirror, show it to you.”

Finn blinked several times rapidly. “Yeah, okay. But first, how about you take me on that stroll around the bed you promised me earlier?”

Poe was deep in thought when an alarm sounded from the console beside him and the ship began to drop out of light speed.

“Dammit.” Poe grabbed the com line and paged for Organa. Behind him, BB-8 whirred onto the deck, beeping loudly. “I know, I know, buddy, I’m working on it.” BB-8 chirruped at him again. “Of course, good one buddy, it’s got to be that Corellian thermal router, it must be overheated.”

“Dameron, what’s going on? Why have we dropped out of light speed?”

“Ah, good morning Organa. I’m not too sure yet, but I have a hunch it has something to do with the outdated Corellian router on this hunk of –,” An alarm interrupted him from another console.  “Or maybe it’s not the router after all.”

“I’m coming up. Dameron, please try not to crash my ship.”

“Come on now, General – I mean, Organa – you know that time was not my fault!”

Dameron examined the console in front of him again. BB-8 rolled over beside him and chirruped repeatedly.

“The Kafane system? Hmm. I don’t think there’s much here to help us out.” Poe consulted a console in front of him, scanning the system. “Kafane seems habited, what do you have on it BB-8?”

The droid projected a tiny planet with generous cloud cover, pimpled with the peaks of mountains protruding through into the atmosphere. Statistics scrolled beside the rotating image, indicating one hemisphere was sparsely populated and maintained a number of minor trading posts for the nearby trade routes.

“Well, seems like we’re going to have to make a pit stop to investigate. If it is the router, we’ll need to stop to repair it.”

BB-8 cut the projection and Poe pulled the freighter out of autopilot, grabbing the controls, letting out a satisfied exhale. Finally, he could use his hands again. Poe adjusted the throttle and guided the ship towards the shadowy side of the unfamiliar planet.


	9. Into the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dammit sir I don’t care, we’ve got a problem! The reason there are no signals from the settlements on this continent is because there are none – at least not anymore."

Poe flipped on the rear atmospheric thruster as they dropped into the atmosphere. Organa sat next to him, monitoring the com link for any activity on the planet’s surface.

“It’s dark down there,” Organa said. BB-8 beeped loudly next to Organa, focusing the large dark orb in the centre of their head on her face.

“BB-8’s right, it could just be the time on the planet,” said Poe.  

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Poe’s hands gripped the controls, guiding the ship as it began to descend through the first layers of atmosphere over the planet. Below, the surface of the planet was covered in low clouds, but Poe could make out the peaks of the mountainous planet surface below, the crests of many waves on a dark sea of clouds. Poe expertly guided the vessel into the unfamiliar air currents circulating in the upper atmosphere, easing the stress on the hull. The ship floated down into the dark clouds.

“Poe, I want you to land outside of the trading settlement. Just until we know what’s going on.”

“But if we need to make repairs –,” Poe started.

“Just do it,” Organa snapped. Poe glanced over at her, and saw the strain etched on her face. He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately.

“Yes sir,” he said. Poe slowly lowered the freighter through the surface of the clouds and darkness enveloped them. For a long moment they were flying nearly blind, until they slipped out finally and were faced with a rapidly approaching wall of sheer onyx.

“Damn!” Poe yelled, jerking the controls to the left and causing the vessel to sharply veer down and away from the wall of rock. The thrusters hummed and the ship rolled further to the left. They had dropped into an incredibly narrow canyon and the freighter grazed the opposite side of the black face of rock. The vessel shot out of the canyon and emerged into what appeared to be an uninhabited valley. Poe guided the ship over to the edge of the valley and the ship gently sank to the ground at the edge of an expanse of meadow. A flock of dark, unfamiliar creatures burst into the sky from a wooded area that covered most of the valley. The ship touched down lightly.

“Always a gentle-man,” said Testor sardonically from behind them.

Poe turned, “You know me, can’t resist some flare.”

“I leave for, what? An hour? And the ship has broken down and nearly crash-landed on some godforsaken planet in the middle of nowhere? Where are we anyway?”

“Oh come on now!” said Poe, outraged.

“We’re on Kafane,” said Organa.

“Come again?”

“The Kafane system,” repeated Organa, “BB-8?” BB-8 obliged, projecting the Outer Rim into the air between them all before zooming in on the Kafane system and their current location on its only habited planet. Poe’s stomach lurched as he saw how far they had come from D’Qar.

Octavia, Undulil, and a male Echani called Lovinne emerged from the hold below. Organa informed them of their current status and Lovinne left the deck to investigate the status of the router, accompanied by Testor. Poe remained at the console and scanned their surroundings for any activity. Organa had left the deck and Undulil and Octavia accompanied her. Poe found himself alone with BB-8, who was poised at a console to his right.

“What’re you looking at buddy?”

BB-8 whirred and drew Poe’s attention to the panel. Poe rapidly flashed through several consoles in front of him. “Damn!” he said aloud and rushed to find Organa.

“General --,”

“Poe, how many times –,”

“Dammit sir, I don’t care, we’ve got a problem! The reason there are no signals from the settlements on this continent is because there are none – at least not anymore. BB-8 picked up the remnants of massive weaponry, detonated as recently as two days ago.”

Organa visibly paled. “Alert the others. We need to leave here as soon as possible.”

Poe nodded and left her, trailed by BB-8. He descended the vessel’s ramp and his face was caressed by a warm, humid breeze. It was still dark. Silhouettes of steep rock rose around them, encapsulating them in what felt like the base of a large bowl with a jagged rim.

The valley reminded him of the mountains of his home, on Yavin 4. Poe had been raised for some time by his maternal grandfather, a large round-faced man with leathery hands the same colour as the fertile earth that stubbornly persisted under his fingernails. His grandfather owned a large plot of land and grew a variety of crops on the outskirts of a small Yavin 4 settlement called Lajilla. The farm was perched on a cliff overlooking the shoreline of Yavin 4’s northern ocean and the land was very fertile. The forested peaks of Yavin 4 surrounded the valley Lajilla was nestled in and caught moisture from the southern sea, resulting in two short monsoon seasons and frequent oceanic storms.

Poe’s grandfather nurtured a number of indigenous crops, mixed in with traditional crops from his home planet of Alderaan. Poe learned which plants helped each other balance the nutrients in the soil, which provided tall stalks for others to climb or the right amount of shade for those too sensitive for the bright sunlight, and which competed too aggressively to be placed side-by-side. For the first few years of his life, Poe accompanied his grandfather in watching, weeding, and nurturing the crops, and later sold them in the fruit and vegetable markets of Lajilla in a small stall they shared with garment-worker. Poe was raised with his hands in the earth, but his heart followed his mother and father into the sky.

Both Poe’s parents fought as starpilots with the Rebel Alliance. Poe’s grandfather told him his mother had stayed after he was born, living with her father outside Lajilla while her husband remained with the Rebels, but her sense of duty and longing for the stars called her back. Poe barely knew them for the first years of his life, but his grandfather nurtured him and made sure he was loved. Whether it was a longing to connect with his parents or simply the same burning desire to see the galaxy or even the sense of justice that motivated his mother and father, Poe felt called to the stars. He left Yavin 4 at 13 and never returned.

Poe found Lovinne and Testor near the rear of the vessel, an open panel in front of them. Lovinne’s head was buried inside the ship’s innards and Testor was observing beside him.

“Well, unfortunately we’re not going anywhere anytime soon, unless it’s on foot,” said Lovinne roughly after Poe filled them in. “The router is shot, and so is the vacillator. We’ll need to replace them both.”

Poe frowned at Lovinne. He opened his mouth to speak, but his gaze was then drawn to the enormous trees that began just a few feet away from where the vessel had settled. They were evenly paced apart, with massive red trunks that towered at least 200 feet towards the sky. Poe narrowed his eyes, trying to see further into the darkness. For a moment, he’d almost thought he’d seen…

“Did you hear what I just said? Hello? What’s up with you Dameron?” Testor was waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” Poe said, annoyed. Testor knew very well where his thoughts had been lingering recently.

“I asked if there was any way we could do a reconnaissance of the trading post, to see if we could gather some supplies?”

“Yeah, good plan. Let’s do it.”

“What’re you looking at?” said Testor as she narrowed her eyes, following Poe’s gaze into the woods.

“Nothing, just thought I saw – well, let’s report to Organa and get a deeper scan of the area from BB-8. We don’t want to run into any surprises."


	10. The Tomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Damn,” Testor swore loudly. “This is not good.” Poe nodded. “We’re not safe here, we need to leave. Now,” said Testor pleadingly.

Testor raised her eyebrows and Poe held her eyes for a moment.

“We can’t go back yet,” he breathed.

She nodded. “I don’t like the look of this… Something feels off.”

Poe swallowed. They crept forward through the trees. They were approaching the edge of the forest, and should have been nearing the outskirts of the trading post. So far, they’d encountered no signs of life. The forest was disturbingly silent. The tops of the trees were so high above that them any movement from the wind would be easily muffled. It was as if they were creeping through a tomb.

Both of them kept one hand poised over their weapons’ holsters.

“Shouldn’t we be able to see something? Or hear something?”

“Not if there’s nothing left…” said Poe simply.

Before they left, Organa had done some preliminary scans to look for any communications activity from the post. There had been nothing, at least nothing they could see without openly announcing themselves to the void.

They knew it was a possibility. Living this far in the Outer Rim was dangerous. There was no galactic protection out here, and even trading posts, which could often try to barter with marauders, smugglers, or pirates, were not always able to defend themselves. The outpost on Kafane was small – it would make a welcome target for anyone desperate enough and willing to expend the weapons power.

In many ways, the planet was similar to Yavin 4, and Poe was struck again by a pang of homesickness. Yavin 4, while not as far out on the Rim, still qualified as a wild and rural planet, made up of the lowest rungs of life in the galaxy, or so people said. Yavin 4 itself had been subject to a number of skirmishes, though none while Poe was living there.

Testor and Poe hovered on the edge of the forest, their eyes slowly adjusting. It was near total darkness when they emerged from under the forest canopy, which was somehow more unsettling. It took a moment before either of them saw it. It loomed from the darkness, only a few metres in front of them, still smouldering. The dwelling had burned, likely the work of fire cannons. The meagre fields around the dwelling were blackened from the fire, which must have died out days before, and had never made it to the trees. Whatever crops had been cultivated in the fields stretching away from the dwelling were devastated.

Poe walked gingerly across the field nearest to them, boots crunching through the blackened shoots that now curled tightly to the earth. The dwelling was large, likely home to a sizeable family. The roof and near wall had collapsed. The glass of the windows had melted from the heat of the blaze.

Testor joined him, but remained silent. Poe walked around the structure. Skeletal remains of two small humanoid figures lay at the back of the home, presumably trying to escape the blaze before they, too, were burned alive.

It was easy to find the dirt track from there, widening gradually into a road. They passed more dwellings as they went, some large, some small, but they didn’t stop. Some smouldered, others had already been cold for days. Signs of explosives were present the further they went, with some dwellings shattered from the inside out, walls thrown out and littering the ground. They crested a moderate hill, and saw it.

Below, the trading post was in ruins. Spread out before them was nothing short of horror. Most buildings here had ceased smoking, probably because they had simply been blasted into pieces. The post covered half of the valley below them, and a silver river snaked its way along the settlement’s edge. Poe guessed that more than twenty or thirty thousand had lived here.

“Damn,” Testor swore loudly. “This is not good.” Poe nodded. “We’re not safe here, we need to leave. _Now_ ,” said Testor pleadingly.

A wind blew up from across the ruined town, bringing with it the stench of destruction, and the distinct smell of rotting flesh. “Whoever was here, they’ve long gone,” said Poe. As he opened his mouth, he felt he could taste the dead, and a wave of nausea washed over him. Poe retched suddenly, but his stomach was empty and nothing came up. He wiped his mouth on a kerchief retrieved from his jump suit pocket. “We should…we should see if we can find the hangar bay…”

“There,” said Testor, pointing to the near side of the settlement, her finger shaking. “It looks like they took it out first, probably to try and prevent any resistance.”

Poe nodded. “Or to prevent anyone from escaping.”

“You don’t think they – took – did they?”

Poe shrugged. “Let’s see if there’s anything left,” said Poe, tying his kerchief around his mouth against the smell. “But let’s be quick about it.”

The smell intensified as they descended the hill into the ruined trading post. It appeared the attack had been swift. No structure was left unscathed, and most had been reduced to piles of dusty rubble, half walls standing like sentries, roof tiles reduced to powder. To their left, an iron staircase missing several steps ascended to the sky, blackened by smoke. They walked quickly past the few bodies that were rotting in the streets. The wind was steady, but provided no relief from the decay. It was eerily silent.

Poe found his mind drawn again to Yavin 4, and to his grandfather. Poe wondered if his grandfather was okay, if he was safe, or if he and his fields were in danger of the same fate as the farms they had passed along the way. This had been the reason he joined the Resistance, hadn’t it? His mind drifted back to that early morning that seemed so far away now.

\----

He had known the Republic was not doing enough to keep the First Order in check for some time, and despite his attempts to plead with higher-ranking officers to take a more offensive approach, political gridlock in the Galactic Senate tied everyone’s hands – or at least that’s what Poe was told. Poe had just returned to Hosnian Prime from a reconnaissance mission, the only kind of mission he seemed to be assigned to lately. He’d been granted only a two day leave – apparently the senate was debating some more “aggressive” reconnaissance actions – and they needed him on standby. While normally Poe would have prickled at being shortchanged for a well-deserved rest, he was so burnt out he took it without complaint, even though it meant he would have to remain on planet.

Poe hated Hosnian Prime. Sure, he had been enamoured with the city when he first arrived – what kid raised with his hands in the dirt of the Outer Rim wouldn’t fall for its glistening spires and towering complexes, the press of thousands of warm bodies in the markets and on the trains, the raucous music of a thousand worlds blasting from squat housing complexes, cantinas and pubs, and the cosmopolitan wafts of more cuisines than he could hope to ever explore. But after living on the planet for most of a decade, Poe was tired of the unpredictable detritus of humans and non-humans that flocked to one of the most populous planets in the galaxy. He’d quickly become disillusioned about the political heart of the galaxy as well, as scandal after scandal continued to surface in the press.

After Poe sold his apartment in the coin-shaving district, he always managed to find a place to stay either on the base or with one of his many friends or lovers in the city – but only when he absolutely had to. As he left the base and strode out into the warm evening air, he scrolled through his list of contacts in his head. It wasn’t a difficult decision, and within an hour he was paging up to Ken Lim’s apartment outside a traditional stone walk-up on an artfully shaded street. It was late, but Ken was up, as he’d known he would be. Ken came down to open the door himself. His long dark hair was tied in a messy bun on top of his head and his brown eyes were framed by elegant purple eyelashes. He cocked his head at Poe, hand resting on his hip. A chain hung from his left ear, resting on a bony shoulder.

“I thought I told you not to come back here,” said Ken. His voice was hard, but his eyes flashed as they carefully surveyed Poe. 

Poe grinned and Ken pulled him into the foyer. Poe grabbed a handful of Ken’s hair as they embraced, kissing him hard and exploring his wet open mouth with his eager tongue. Ken pinned Poe deftly against the wall, as the door slowly slid shut beside them.

Ken bit hard on Poe’s lip, drawing blood. Poe cried out. “I missed you too,” Poe said.

After, they stumbled out to a dive bar Ken frequented nearby for a smoke and some food. Ken’s kitchen was always bare. Ken liked to imply that his busy life as an intrepid investigative reporter left him no time for everyday errands like hitting up the markets. But the reality was Ken was perpetually broke, always peddling carefully fabricated stories to gossip rags. Occasionally, one of his more tawdry inventions would be picked up and circulated, and he would get a pay cheque and put off his impending eviction. But that morning, like so many others, Ken’s cupboards were bare. They both liked to get stoned after a fuck anyway.

The bar was smoky and nearly empty, as it was still early morning. Ken led Poe to a booth near a large stained window that overlooked the already busy street. Poe noticed a shadowy figure seated in a back corner, under a cloud of multi-coloured smoke.

They ordered a water pipe and a heathy smattering of entrees from the tall Twi’lek server who barely glanced at either of them. Ken leaned into Poe and studied his fingernails, which had been carefully sharpened to near points and painted red and gold.

The pipe arrived first, and Poe took a long drag, exhaling yellow smoke that lingered above their heads, changing from yellow to blue to green before it dissipated. Daylight was slowly beginning to creep into the sky outside. Poe passed the hose to Ken who placed the hose in his mouth, inhaling deeply. Movement in his peripheries caught his attention, and Poe turned to see the shadowy figure stirring in the far corner. The figure stood, and glided over to their booth, before casually sitting opposite them. Ken handed the hose automatically, closing his eyes as she took it from his fingers.

The hose lingered at her wide mouth, before she sucked deeply and exhaled a dozen or so large o’s into the air between them. Her hair was dark and piled on top of her head in the fashion popular amongst the spiritualists of the Inner Rim worlds. Her face was marked by deep laugh lines, but she didn’t smile.

“I hope you’re not always this predictable, Mr. Dameron,” she said, her voice sharp. She passed the hose to him. Oddly, Poe was not afraid, although there were plenty of people in the galaxy who wanted to do him harm. He had an intuition this woman was not one of them. But then again, maybe that was just the weed talking. Poe waited for her to continue. She laced her fingers together, and leaned forwards with her elbows on the table. Poe took a long drag on the pipe. “My name is Octavia,” she said. “I have a message for you from Senator Leia Organa.”

In the span of a few short hours, Poe was officially a deserter and had joined the ranks of the Resistance. Poe had thought it was finally his chance to take some significant action against the First Order and make a difference in the galaxy, like his parents.

Gazing around him now, Poe was moved by a shiver of deep foreboding. He and Testor had reached what had once been the ships’ dock and hangar. Both structures had been so obliterated it was difficult to be sure that the piles of rock and mangled metal had once been the heart of this tiny trading post and the home of many spacecraft. It appeared that Testor was right: this was where the settlement had attempted to launch what had likely been a brief resistance to the attack. It was here that they found the evidence they had both been dreading.

Testor had walked on ahead of him, wading gingerly through the rubble. She had stopped beside a large mass of crushed, blackened metal. It was unmistakably the wreckage of a Tie-fighter – with an insignia glistening in red on the intact outer shell of the craft.

The First Order was still alive.


	11. The Red Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What would your grandmother say?” Asked Testor.

Poe froze at Testor’s raised hand, barely visible in the deep darkness under the forest canopy. He had seen it too. Just ahead of them, something had scrambled up the base of a large red tree trunk. Poe hadn’t even seen it at first, it was the quiet scraping that he knew didn’t match the soft crunches their Resistance-issued boots made against the forest floor.

They both dropped silently to their knees and held their breath. Poe’s grip unconsciously tightened on the canvas sack that held their salvaged parts from the Tie-fighter. The scraping noise stopped suddenly. Poe touched Testor’s shoulder. Whatever was there had noticed them.

As Testor moved a hand towards her weapon’s holster, the deep silence of the wood was broken by a shrill scream, and before they knew what was happening a small dark figure was flying out of the sky towards them. Poe rolled quickly to the left, and Testor to the right, but the creature somehow adjusted its descent and crashed on top of Testor who cried out in pain. Poe dropped the canvas sack and grabbed at his holster, but before he could loose his weapon, the creature had lunged at him. He raised his right arm quickly to shield his face. He felt a sharp pain in his forearm but found he was able to easily deflect the dull blade the creature clutched. The creature was not heavy, and was about the size of a small child. As Poe threw the creature off him and onto the ground, he realized it was exactly what it seemed – a child.

The child rolled and bounced back to its feet and rushed at Poe again. “Stop!” Poe yelled. “We don’t want to hurt you!” The child screamed that shrill scream again and rushed back towards him. Poe dodged easily and the child recovered, turning to rush at Testor.

“Stop!” Testor yelled. She had unholstered her weapon and had it trained on the small figure, which froze between them.

“We’re with the Resistance,” Poe said, attempting to project his voice in case there were others perched in the trees around them. “We stopped here because our ship was malfunctioning, and we hoped to find assistance from the trading post. We just came from there. We saw what happened.”

The child’s posture shifted, relaxed slightly, but still the dull blade was clutched in their hand.

“My name’s Poe. This is Jessica, but everyone calls her Testor. There are six of us together. You might have seen our ship land, just over in that clearing.”

The child turned towards him, and for the first time he got a good look at her face. She could be no more than twelve years old, a Twil’ek female, with dark purple prehensile tenticles that reached just below her shoulders. She was wearing a rough spun garment and cloak, the same shade as the trunks of the trees that surrounded them. She slowly lowered the dull blade, which Poe could now see was shaved from the bark of the enormous trees.

“What’s your name?” Poe asked. He signaled to Testor to lower her weapon. The girl noticed. She said nothing. “Are you alone here?”

The girl held Poe’s gaze for a long moment. None of them moved. Then, the girl raised her head to the tree tops and whistled carefully. The sound reverberated off the tree trunks. Testor reached for her weapon and Poe signalled her again. She was still on the ground, and Poe realized that she must be injured, or she surely would have gotten to her feet by now.

There was a gentle hiss from above, and a small figure could just be made out sliding down the trunk of a nearby tree. The figure landed with a thud and raised a cloud of light dust, sneezing twice in quick succession. A Twil’ek boy of no more than five jogged over to the girl, who he stood behind, peering out from behind her and looking at Poe and Testor with curiosity.

“My name is Baila,” said the girl in a low voice. “This is my brother, Orgadomo. We are the only ones.” The girl turned to Testor. “You are injured. I’m sorry. I thought you were Stormtroopers.”

“How long ago did they come?” Testor asked.

“Five days ago. Everyone else is gone.” Her voice tightened. Her eyes moved from Testor to Poe.

Poe found himself forced to look away, eyes stinging. He knew what it meant, that everyone was gone, as did this child. Poe knew this was how the First Order operated – had been operating, for decades. They raided Outer Rim and Far Outer Rim systems, killed many, and captured the rest. Adults were killed or enslaved, forced to work in the hardest sectors of their military economy. Children were indoctrinated, re-educated, and transformed into obedient Stormtroopers. Poe had never known a Stormtrooper who had defected – until he met Finn. Poe’s breath caught in his throat at the thought of him, and the realization that this must have been how Finn was taken.

“How did you get away?”

The girl was quiet for a few long seconds. “Grandmother. She was enslaved before, she wouldn’t let it happen to us. She sent us to the red ones, and she burned our home herself, so they would not know to look for two more children. She said they would never take her.” The girl smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. The boy clung to her cloak, still peering out from behind her and observing these two strangers.

“The red ones?” Said Testor, looking up into the dark canopy far above.

“The trees. The first peoples here, the ones who left long ago, they lived in the tops of the red ones. Their homes are still there. The troopers don’t know about them. They would never look there.”

Poe looked at Testor, who shrugged. The girl, Baila was staring at him still.

“Well, you’ve injured my friend. We’ll need your help to get her back to our ship, and the parts that we collected for our repairs. We have food as well, if you’re hungry.” At the mention of food, the boy, Orgadomo, stepped out from behind his sister, hands clasped together in front of him.

“How do we know we can trust you?”

Poe shrugged. “You don’t. But you’ve seen what the Stormtroopers do, and we are clearly not them.” Baila looked unconvinced.

“What would your grandmother say?” Asked Testor.

Baila looked at her carefully. “She would say we need to eat, and that one of is you injured, so it will be easy for us to get away if we feel unsafe, and that your fragile human hands are ill-suited for climbing the red ones.”

“Okay,” said Poe. “Now that that’s been settled, shall we?” He held out the canvas sack to Baila, who came and took it from his hands, carefully slinging it over her back. Poe knelt down to help Testor to her feet. She grimaced with pain, and it appeared she had fractured a bone in her ankle.

“Is this a good idea?” Testor said, under her breath.

“What else can we do? Leave them?” Poe’s mind was drawn back again to thoughts of Finn. Finn would have been younger than the girl, Baila, when he was taken. He would have been the boys’ age or younger. Poe wondered if either child would remember anything about their lives here on Kafane if they had been taken, if any of the other children who must have been taken would. Would they have forgotten their grandmother, the one who sent them to the tree tops and set their home alight to protect them?

Testor wrapped her arm around him, and Poe gripped her tightly. She was in a lot of pain. He shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. The girl, Baila, was at his side now, holding the hand of the boy.

“It’s this way,” said Poe, gesturing, “But you probably knew that.” She nodded, and they set out for the meadow that couldn’t be seen yet through the thick otherworldly darkness that rained beneath the canopy of the red ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay for this chapter! Exams, end of the semester stress, job hunting, etc. Excited to return to see what's been happening with Finn in the next chapter though, so look for that soon.


	12. The Jedi Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, what’s your plan then?” Finn was seething with anger and didn’t make any effort to hide it.

“Finn!”

Finn startled awake, smacking his head hard on the bunk above him. He swore loudly and rubbed the top of his head. An elongated droid with large opaque eyes stared into his bunk.

“You’ve been requested for a briefing in Hangar 3. Report there at once.”

Finn nodded, still rubbing his head. The messenger turned and left the room. The lights were still dimmed. It was very early. He’d been having a dream. It was dark in the dream, and there were flames all around him, blasters were firing, people were screaming. It was a dream he’d had before, more frequently since he’d begun sleeping in these Resistance bunks that so closely resembled the bunks he’d known in the First Order. The throbbing in his forehead subsided gradually. Finn carefully swung out of the bunk and lowered himself to the floor. He made his way to his locker and pulled out a fresh shirt and a pair of trousers he’d been allotted. He fingered Poe’s jacket and wondered about the potential fallout of wearing it to an official briefing. He decided he didn’t care, and pulled the jacket on.

Finn made his way to hangar 3 in the early morning light, effortlessly navigating dimly lit corridors and taking a shortcut across the tarmac. The morning air was growing colder, and he was grateful for the extra layer provided by the jacket. Finn had easily learned to navigate the Resistance base; he had lived most of his life on various First Order ships and bases, and this one wasn’t all that different. The resemblance to the First Order extended beyond the simple geography of the base itself: General Organa had been right, things were changing.

In two short weeks, much had happened. Organa, Poe, and the others – the starpilot called Testor and his old medic, Octavia, among them – had been declared traitors of the Provisional Republic, the new name the former Resistance commanders had fashioned for themselves out of the ashes of the Hosnian system. A surviving senator, Senator Gwich-im, had materialized on the morning Poe and the others had left, conveniently claiming the Resistance as the military arm of the “new” Provisional Republic. Gwich-im declared himself the Chancellor of the Provisional Republic and began to broadcast a message to the galaxy that demanded immediate acknowledgement of and material support for his claim. Several systems immediately declared their support for the Chancellor and others soon followed, but less than half of the members of the former Republic had responded to the call. Tensions were high, trade routes were being disrupted, and political rivalries that had been simmering beneath the veneer of peace maintained by the Republic were bubbling to the surface. Half a dozen systems were already engaged in full-scale war with each other, and reports of mysterious raids had drifted in from several systems in the Outer Rim.

Finn had carefully kept abreast of what was happening in the galaxy. It was actually hard to avoid hearing about, as most at the Resistance base were buzzing about what had happened – and Finn knew that many did not believe that Organa was truly a traitor. In all the talk, though, people were careful to not betray any suspicions of sympathies to Organa’s splinter group.

All Finn had learned was that after Poe left him, he and a few others had taken off in a YT-series freighter. When the new General Ematt ordered the remaining starpilots to destroy the freighter, they refused, and were promptly imprisoned. There had been no word on the jailed starpilots since the incident, a sore point among many who sympathized with their refusal to hunt down their former Commander.

Finn knew he had only escaped imprisonment because the Provisional Republic had some sort of role they wanted him to fill. He expected he would find out what it was shortly. He had been briefly pulled in for questioning by a stern looking Druulgothan he had never seen before. He assumed he had accompanied the new Chancellor’s delegation, and the Druulgothan was aptly dressed in a Republic uniform. After several brief questions about his whereabouts during the escape of the YT-series freighter, Finn was dismissed. The only thing unusual about the encounter was the droid recording the interview in the corner, a BB-unit who reminded him of BB-8.

Finn had heard nothing about Organa’s splinter group or Poe. No one knew what happened to the freighter or had any inkling where they had gone, at least not as far as he could tell. It was difficult to connect with others who had sympathies for Organa, Poe, or the jailed starpilots. General Ematt had cracked down on unsanctioned socializing and placed the base on a curfew. With the arrival of the remaining Republic forces over the course of the past week, the environment had become increasingly tense. The General’s attempt to integrate the two forces was constrained by long-standing tensions, and the fact was that most of those at the Resistance base had previously left the Republic forces to fight the First Order. The demographics had already shifted, and the Republic personnel greatly outnumbered those who had switched loyalties to the Resistance.

Finn had been shuffled around between various divisions, ranging from communications technician to the maintenance crew. The past three days he had been switched to a sanitation crew responsible for revitalizing the abandoned wings of the old Alliance base in preparation for the arrival of the remaining Republic forces, due any day now.

Finn arrived at Hangar 3 and was stopped outside the door by two Republic officers who told him to wait. Finn folded his arms and stood a short distance away, gazing out over the near-deserted grounds. Dawn was slowly breaking over the horizon, but the sun rose early here and Finn couldn’t seem to figure out what season it was on this planet. A flock of dark birds soared over the distant wooded hills and vanished into the canopy.

He heard the door open behind him. “Ah, yes. The Stormtrooper I’ve heard so much about,” said a cold voice. Finn turned and saw a tall man whose shoulder length white hair hung in ribbons around his face, framing a sharp bearded chin and thick eyebrows. He recognized him immediately as the new General Ematt.

“General,” Finn said.

“Come inside please.”

Finn followed him into the cavernous hangar, which was brightly lit and buzzing with activity. General Ematt had seemingly set up some kind of communications centre here. Finn was puzzled, because there was already a sizeable communications department operating at the headquarters in hangar 1. He followed the General through rows of consoles until they reached a glassed in room near the back of the hangar, with two Republic officers positioned outside.

Finn entered the room behind the General and sank into the chair the man indicated. The General remained standing.

“I want you to know, this problem has been weighing on my mind quite heavily, we haven’t simply forgotten about you, Stormtrooper.” His tone was icy.

“My name is Finn.”

The General ignored him. “The problem, of course, is what to do with you.” Finn tensed, and General Ematt noticed. “Yes, I have no doubt that you are a traitor, which is why you’ve been carefully observed these last two weeks. Unfortunately, to dispose of you so soon would likely draw only further traitorous sympathies, and until the remainder of my fleet arrives we need to prevent that from happening.”

“So, what’s your plan then?” Finn was seething with anger and didn’t make any effort to hide it. If this man wanted him dead, why bother playing his game?

The General smiled. “Oh, I have come up with something. Don’t you worry about that Stormtrooper.”

“My name is –.”

“How would you like to see your friend again, the one who thinks she’s a Jedi – Rey?”

Finn stood up angrily and the door immediately swished open behind him and the two Republic officers moved to enter. The General held up his hand, “Leave us,” he ordered. “Sit down,” he ordered and Finn sat.

“Where is she?” Finn’s heart was racing. He hadn’t spoken to Rey since their brief reunion on Starkiller base, which had been interrupted by Solo, and then shattered by Solo’s murder and their battle with Kylo Ren. He knew only that Rey had been sent to find Luke Skywalker with the map that R2D2 had completed.

“The Jedi girl? I have no idea. That’s where you come in.”


	13. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn waited.  
> “You don’t recognize me,” she said after a moment, raising her eyebrows in surprise.  
> Finn stared at her, sure he had never seen this woman before.  
> Her face broke into a small smile, “I guess you were a bit preoccupied with a certain starpilot that night.”

Finn shoved the handful of possessions he had acquired over the past few weeks into the standard issue canvas sack he had been granted. While he’d been ordered to clean out his bunk, that task didn’t amount to much. Finn had never really had things that were his. For as long as he could remember, everything that belonged to him actually belonged to the First Order. When he was finished with things, or outgrew them, they were returned for recycling. When he needed new things, he had to place a formal order and they were commissioned or became available on a particular assignment. The first article that had ever really felt like his was Poe’s jacket. The jacket that had come inadvertently into his keeping, when he thought Poe had been killed in the crash on Jakku. Later, after discovering Poe was actually alive, Poe had told him to keep it, and touched him on the shoulder while giving him a look that set his blood rushing and left him in a daze. And then, Poe had it repaired for him, after it had been sliced clean through by Kylo Ren on Starkiller Base.

He wore the jacket now, both against the chill and because he wanted to be sure everyone knew exactly where he stood in the rapidly shifting politics of the Provisional Republic Headquarters. He fastened the clasp on the rough-spun canvas sack he had been assigned, and closed his locker. Finn didn’t pause or give the bunker a final sweeping look before he left; this wasn’t his home.

Finn strode out into the bustling tarmac. The bright morning sun hung low in the cloudless sky. Most people on the base were occupied by the organized chaos that often reigned in military complexes. Officers shouted orders, left and right, mechanics and engineers inspected elements, engines, fuel pods, and weaponry. Lower rank recruits jogged from place to place, carrying out various orders, laughing and joking with each other. As Finn strode across the hot tarmac, he felt invisible. No one gave him, or the jacket a second glance.

“Reporting for duty, sir,” said Finn to an unfamiliar officer, upon reaching the small transport cruiser perched outside hangar 14.

The officer turned to face him, slowly sizing him up and down. He was human, and had high cheekbones, pearly white skin, and long crimson hair piled in a plait on top of his head. “So, you’re the Stormtrooper I’ve heard so much about,” said the officer with mild disinterest. Finn bristled, struggling to control himself. “Captain Moore. Imtiaz will show you where to stow your things. We are prepared to leave within the hour.”

Finn nodded, and turned to the small man the captain had gestured to, following him up the ramp and into the vessel.

After stowing his gear, Finn stood awkwardly outside the vessel. He gazed out across the base, wondering if he would return here again. His gaze paused on the grassy knoll that he could make out across the busy tarmac, where he had leaned into Poe’s shoulder, inhaling his scent and gazing at the sky. Those few stolen moments felt painfully distant now. It had only been a few short weeks ago that he and Poe had stumbled from the knoll to Poe’s quarters, that he had woken in that early sunlight, eyes drawn to the hair that darkened Poe’s chest, exposed from under a thin blanket, his chest rising and falling, and then the kiss. Poe’s soft, wet, warm mouth on his own. The thrill of that kiss still made Finn’s hands tremble.

Finn was jolted from his memory by the sight of a tall human woman who was pushing her way through the crowded tarmac and towards the vessel. She stopped upon reaching the captain, and handed him a document. Finn couldn’t hear their conversation, there was too much noise across the tarmac, but the woman gestured towards the vessel. The captain crossed his arms and then pocketed the document.

The woman nodded at the captain, her face impassive, and then strode over towards the ramp. Her hair was cropped close to her head, and her eyebrows were large and dark. She boarded the ship without even looking at Finn.

*

A short time later, Finn was seated in the bridge of the vessel as it broke out of D’Qar’s atmosphere. Imtiaz sat on his right, in charge of weapons control, the new woman on his left, whose name he had still not learned. The captain was seated in the centre, and on his opposite side was a large, muscled Chiss male called Poltret and beside him a Drud engineer called Jenissar.

While Finn was somewhat relieved to be leaving behind the volatile environment of the Provisional Republic base, he felt the weight of uncertainty surrounding him, growing thicker in the air and making it difficult to breathe. As soon as they were clear of the atmosphere, he got up and left the bridge. Poltret’s narrow eyes followed him.

Finn paused in the galley, accepting a glass of water from an HT-series droid. Footsteps approached behind him, and he turned to see the new woman approaching him.

“You’re Finn,” she said. Her voice was carefully controlled. Finn nodded. “I’m Ximena.”

Finn waited.

“You don’t recognize me,” she said after a moment, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Finn stared at her, sure he had never seen this woman before.

Her face broke into a small smile, “I guess you were a bit preoccupied with a certain starpilot that night.”

Finn blinked. A vague memory swam into his mind. Had she been seated at the table that night? No, she couldn’t be one of them. They would never have let her join this mission… “You’re not a…”

“Not anymore,” she said. “They stripped me of my post. I’ll never be a starpilot again. At least, not for the Provisional Republic,” she added this last as almost an afterthought.

“You were there,” said Finn, remembering more clearly now, her face shining at the table of laughing starpilots, seated next to the woman called Testor, cheering when Finn approached the table with Poe and slamming her drink onto the table.

The ship lurched abruptly as they entered hyperdrive. Ximena said nothing more and left the galley. Finn watched her leave, finding himself again struck with a deep uncertainty. He was surrounded by people he didn’t know, who had unclear intentions for him, and who expected him to help capture Rey and Luke Skywalker.

Finn stood motionless in the galley, wondering how he had found himself in this situation, what path had led him to stand there, hurtling through space towards an unknown destination. He turned over in his mind the course of events that had collided together. How had he gone from deciding to put himself first and risking death to escape life as a servant for the First Order to this? How had he escaped the immense physical and mental prisons the First Order had trapped him in? And how had he come to be here, going from one prison to another?

The cascading series of events after his decision not to fire his weapon on Jakku had unfolded in such an unpredictable way, but in the end, what had really changed? Here he was, trapped with people he knew he could not trust, with a mission he did not believe in. A cavernous sadness settled around him, weighing on his shoulders.

The decision to leave the First Order was not an easy one to make. Finn had known nothing else his entire life. But the violent death of his closest friend on their first mission to Jakku tore him from his complacency.  

As the First Order transport vessel had travelled back to the Star Destroyer from Jakku, Finn had noticed his heart was beating faster and it became difficult to take a full breath. Only a short hour before, FN-2003, Slip, had been behind him. He could feel Slip’s absence, the empty space on the transporter growing larger and larger in his mind. He felt consumed by it. Once the vessel docked, Finn automatically left the transporter. FN-2199 touched his shoulder as they descended into the hangar. Finn turned to him, staring at his dust-coated helmet which looked so out of place in the shining interior of the Destroyer.

“You’ve got blood on your helmet FN-2187,” said Nines. His voice was hard, as though nothing had happened, as though they hadn’t just lost one of their closest friends.

“He shouldn’t have been there,” Finn said through gritted teeth, “he wasn’t ready.”

“He was the weakest link,” said Nines, echoing Captain Phasma, who had ordered Finn and Slip to be separated on this mission. After rescuing Slip, who had been pinned down, for what seemed like the hundredth time, behind a dilapidated temple in a shadowy jungle created by the reconnaissance mission simulator, Captain Phasma had ordered Finn to stop bailing him out.

“He’s the weakest link,” Phasma had said, referring to the foursome that had been training together for months. “The First Order does not tolerate weakness. He will succeed or fail on his own. I will be separating you.”

“You’d better clean off that blood before you report to the Captain,” said Nines, dismissive.

Finn had felt anger rise up within him, incredulous that FN-2199 could so simply dismiss the death of their friend, _his_ friend. Finn knew, Slip had been the best of them. Slip was one of the only kind and truly caring people Finn had ever known in his life. Finn had been drawn intuitively to Slip. As they received their instructions from their newly minted captain, Finn and Slip had locked eyes as they were assigned to a training group together. Slip smiled uneasily, and his high cheekbones and short jet black hair only accentuated his large ears. Finn returned the smile, surprising himself. Slip was one of the handful of Troopers who remembered something of life before the First Order. He hailed from a giant liquid planet in the Middle Rim that Finn had never heard of. While Slip openly shared stories with Finn of learning to surf the turbulent waves and unpredictable currents, trying to coax the translucent fauna from the planet’s shallow seas, he closed up when Finn asked how he had come to the First Order. Finn saw the tears as they sprang to Slip’s eyes and swept down his high cheeks, and instinctively reached out to him, pulling him close and holding him while he heaved against his shoulder. Finn had never held someone like that before. The First Order didn’t believe indoctrinating youth with any kind of intimacy would generate effective soldiers. Slip’s tiny frame fit easily into Finn’s arms, and he patted his back as he cried, without speaking. While Finn couldn’t find words he thought would be appropriate, the physical closeness between them felt like enough. Slip pulled away abruptly as their other bunk mates noisily clambered into their chamber. Finn didn’t ask about his family again, but he would never forget what it felt like to hold someone, to provide comfort.

From that day, Slip clung to Finn, and Finn welcomed the company. He felt valued around Slip, needed. He felt seen and understood in a way he hadn’t with earlier friendships. While he was readily adopted into the training group, bringing Slip along with him, Finn never felt as connected to the others as he did to Slip. While they never touched each other like that again, Finn often drifted into the memory of what it felt like to hold someone else, and imagined what it must feel like to be held. He wondered if anyone had ever held him like that, and knew that it must have happened. While other troopers had stories of their slain or enslaved families, they most often kept these to themselves, and never shared what it was like to be loved, to be comforted, to have a home. That embrace with Slip was the only living memory he had of the kind of human touch that was not about order, obedience, subservience, or hierarchy.

Finn would often coax stories about Slip’s home world from him. Having no memory of any planetary life other than that of the Starkiller Base, Finn relished in Slip’s stories and Slip lived to tell them. Slip’s eyes would dance with mischief as he described how the translucent fauna would slip between your fingers and back into the waves if you failed to make a secure grasp on the thin slip of ribbed underbelly. He described pulling and pulling on a length of fauna until his arms ached and he thought they would separate from his body and fall into the waves, before finally, triumphantly reaching the end, piling the creature into the densely woven reed basket he shared the platform of the barge with. Finn begged for details about the raucous floating markets, where Slip would be displayed next to his crew’s catch in order to demonstrate its worth. Finn was careful to not pressure Slip to share more than he was ready to. He sensed it was difficult for him, and while Slip always launched into a memory whenever Finn asked, Finn could tell it took a toll on him, as lines crept into the corner of his eyes, and his forehead began to crease. Finn was careful to not draw on Slip’s stories too often, but he longed for details about life that was not proscribed by the routines of industrial military complex that was the First Order.

As FN-2199 walked away on that day, Finn’s anger was swallowed by a wave of grief as these memories washed over him, wracking him to the core. The only person who had perhaps been a true friend in his life was gone. Finn turned on his heel and stumbled back into the now empty transport carrier, tearing off his helmet and gasping for breath. Sweat poured down his face. Captain Phasma’s voice violently pulled him back to reality as she ordered him to report to her division for weapons inspection and admonished him for removing his helmet. He decided then as the words, “Yes Captain,” escaped his mouth that he would no longer be taking orders from the First Order. It was time to leave.

Finn was returned to reality as the vessel lurched, dropping abruptly out of hyperdrive. He heard raised voices coming from the bridge.

Ximena emerged from the corridor to his left. “What’s happened?” She demanded. Seeing Finn’s blank look, she turned towards the bridge and Finn followed her.

“And I’m telling you _Captain_ , that we need to,” Poltret said, his voice raised.

“I have my orders –,” yelled Captain Moore, his face flushed.

“And I have mine,” said Poltret with a severe finality. The Captain opened his mouth again. “Or would you like me to hail the General?”

A long few seconds passed in silence. Captain Moore and Poltret were staring at each other, Poltret defiant, Moore with thinly veiled rage. Finally, Moore spoke.

“Jenissar, set course for the Ilium system.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Poltret glanced at Finn, and as their eyes met Finn shuddered. He was swept up suddenly by a warm sensation of gentle motion, cradling his body, as if he were floating in a lazily flowing river on a hot day. Poltret looked away and as quickly as the sensation had enveloped him, it evaporated.

Poltret and the captain both resumed their positions as Jenissar counted down their jump to hyperspace. Ximena swept from the bridge without a word. The ship shuddered as it entered hyperdrive again, and Finn found himself lost gazing at the strips of light that streamed casually past the ship.

They were headed to the Ilium system.


	15. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero crashes on the surface of an Ilium system planet, following the trajectory of Organa's rogue vessel, pursued by remnants of the First Order, and sensing Rey, somehow, lurking at the edges of his consciousness.

Finn woke up slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the sharp sensation of frigid air on his face. He struggled to open his eyes. His head was pounding so intently it was a moment before he realized he had opened his eyes, he just couldn’t process what he was seeing. He was surrounded by darkness. He carefully took stock of his body. Aside from the thundering in his skull, he couldn’t sense any other injuries. He seemed to still be strapped into his station, which had undoubtedly saved his life.

Struggling in the darkness Finn reached for his belt, unfastening himself from the seat. Finn carefully extricated himself from his station, bracing against the dead console in front of him as he adjusted to the planet’s gravity.

Beside him, he heard someone moan. Finn knew now was his chance at escape. He contemplated this possibility in the present situation. His chances of survival alone on this planet were slim. But then, he wasn’t necessarily alone. Although if the state of their vessel was any indication, Poe’s ship was likely in a similar state. And then there was Rey, hovering at the edges of his consciousness, just out of reach, but too close to be coincidental. Why could he feel Rey, but not Poe? Finn pushed this question into the recesses of his mind, afraid of the answers that rushed to the surface.

“Finn,” whispered a voice to his right, “is that you?” Ximena.

“Yes,” Finn croaked. The effort to speak set his head thundering at new levels.

“The others?” Ximena asked. Finn said nothing. He couldn’t see anything, and couldn’t hear anything either. A gust of frigid air rushed into the bridge from the corridor behind them. Finn heard Ximena working to free herself from her station. “Help me,” she said. Finn reached out and stumbled towards her. He inhaled an unfamiliar chemical smell coming from the other side of the vessel. There was a heavy metallic odour to the air that gushed toward them again and Finn shivered. He set to work extricating Ximena from her seat, which was pinned neatly against the console, bent at an irregular angle.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he whispered.

“Yes, yes, just get me out of this. We’ve got to move now.”

“Is now a good time to ask why in the hell I should trust you?” Finn hissed.

“You already do trust me,” whispered Ximena, her eyes sparkling as Finn struggled to pivot the chair away from the console enough for her to clamber out.

Finn grunted as he heaved against the console, pushing all his weight against the chair. It pivoted slightly and Ximena let out a small gasp before pulling herself from the chair. She immediately bent over, splinting her abdomen.

“You’re hurt,” said Finn.

She took several deep breaths, struggling to right herself. “You already trust me, because your instincts tell you that you should.” In the dark, all he could see were her eyes. “If we had time, I would explain to you why I stayed behind with the Provisional Republic, but to make it easier for you, what if I said it was on Organa’s instructions?”

“Why should I believe you?”

Ximena said nothing. She was breathing heavier now. The wind was whipping around outside them, and the strong, fresh scent of something burning began to fill the cabin. It mixed with the heavy metallic stink of the planet. Their combined effect was overwhelming, causing Finn’s head to start pounding even more intently.

“We need to get out of here,” said Ximena, quietly, “before any of them wake up. And we need something to defend ourselves.”

“We’ll be trapped on this planet if we leave.”

“Not if we find Organa.”

Finn’s heart skipped. He remembered the radar following the vessel, its out of control descent to the planet’s surface, the TIE-fighters following.

“We’ve got to move. Now.”

Finn struggled. He had no reason to trust this woman, but for some reason, he wanted to. Was it simply that night at the cantina? The memory of a time that weighed less heavily on his heart? Or was there another reason he felt compelled to go with her? Another rush of icy air hurtled into the cabin. Poe was out there somewhere. And also, somewhere at the edge of his mind, still unable to explain it, he could feel her. Rey.

“Let’s go.”

They rummaged in the storage compartment near the dormitory, pulling out two of the smaller blasters, thinking they would be easier to carry. Finn pulled a hat and thermal mask over his face, and helped Ximena into her own. She was in a lot of pain, but was trying to hide it. She dug through her bedclothes, pulling out a small handheld console that she powered on.

“I’m just trying to track where we are, and where they are. This console’s not very good though, it can’t tell us much. If only there was some way to hail them without alerting those TIE-fighters. Probably already a Star Destroyer on the way here anyway. Think it’s worth the risk?”

Finn gazed at her in the dim emergency lighting. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She looked paler. They didn’t have much time. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Behind him, Finn heard the unmistakeable whine of a blaster powering up and felt the hair rise on his arms as cold steel pressed into the back of his skull.

“Don’t move, wench, or I’ll blast this one’s brains out. Don’t test me.”

Finn took a deep slow breath, knowing it might be his last. Ximena’s reaction was slow. She looked worse with every passing minute. She slowly placed her blaster on the floor. Finn mirrored her, dropping his to the ground and slowly raising his hand.

“Drop the console, too,” said Undulil. His breath was hot on Finn’s neck.

“Undulil!” he started, unconvincingly, “You’re okay! That’s great, we were just –,”

“Shut it,” said Undulil, pressing the cold steel harder into the nape of Finn’s neck. “I know exactly what you two traitors were up to.”

“I really doubt that –,” started Finn, but Undulil hissed behind him.

“I said, quiet!” He moved slowly in front of Finn, keeping the blaster trained on him, making his way to the console. He kicked away both their weapons. Finn frantically scanned the dormitory for something that might help get them out of this situation. There was a brownstone relic hanging from the corner of Imtiaz’s bunk, but there was no way Finn could reach it without attracting attention.

Undulil reached the console and began to hurriedly type into it. Just then, a screeching explosion rocked the ship, throwing Finn and Undulil to the ground and vaulting Ximena from the bunk. Ximena lunged at Undulil, grabbing his blaster and pressing it into his neck, pinning him to the ground. He kneed Ximena in the stomach and she cried out in agony and he threw her easily to the side. Finn grabbed the relic from Imtiaz’s bunk, and brought it crashing down on the man’s head, flattening him.

“Ximena!” Finn cried. She was unconscious, and deathly pale. Finn knelt down beside her, trying desperately to wake her. Then he heard the unmistakeable sounds of several pairs of boots coming from the hall. Finn froze. It was as if the icy air surrounding them had slid into his veins. They were here.

Three storm troopers appeared in the doorway and cocked their blasters directly at Finn’s heart.


	16. The Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn finds himself alone in the one place he promised himself he would never return.

The cuffs cut sharply into Finn’s wrists, waking him from a semi-stupor. His head was pressed up against cold steel. The Stormtroopers had trussed them all up and thrown them into the hold before setting course for the orbiting Star Destroyer. Finn could hear the undeniable sounds of the vessel docking in the receiving hangar. The hold was still in darkness. He couldn’t see the others, but he could feel Undulil, unconscious at his feet, and Ximena, barely breathing beside him. His head was throbbing again. He waited in the dark. Eventually, the vessel powered down, docking. Then, muffled voices. The hold opened.

Momentarily, the bright lights of the hangar bay blinded him, but soon enough his eyes adjusted to the familiar dark hues of the Star Destroyer interior. He was back. He had sworn never again. Vowed that he would never return to the First Order. And now here he was, alone, with no way out. He had no allies and no one was coming for him. The new republic would not miss him. No one even knew where he was. Finn felt so totally alone. Fear rose on an uncontrollable tide, threatening to crush him under its weight. It was an ocean, a current, pulling him under. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t move.

Rough hands pulled him up, others reached out grabbing hold of Undulil, then Ximena. The sight of two troopers roughly holding Ximena under the arms and beginning to drag her from the vessel’s hold pulled Finn back into his body. At the recesses of his mind, anger swirled, grew, burst.

“Get your hands off her! Get off of her!” The butt of a blaster came down sharply between his shoulder blades. Finn gasped at the pain, falling to his knees hard.

“I had to see for myself,” came a familiar voice from behind him. “They said it was you. FN-2187. And you bring friends.”

Finn turned, saw Captain Phasma towering over him. “Wow,” Finn said, grimacing at the sharp pain between his shoulder blades, “I see they went to trouble of separating you from the rest of the trash on Starkiller –.”

This time it was a boot, Phasma’s, which connected with his chin. Blood filled his mouth and he was thrown onto his back. He couldn’t help it, a laugh burst out of him. He splattered blood down his front and in a small halo on the dark steel floor beneath him.

“They dug you from the trash!” He laughed. Phasma’s boot connected with his chest, exploding in a sharp pain that sent lights popping behind his eyes.

“Take them to the brig,” spat Phasma.

Finn was dragged to his feet again, and pushed forward. His eyes were watering from pain, and blood flowed freely into his mouth, washing over his tongue, salty and metallic. He quickly lost track of where they were headed, didn’t know which hangar bay they’d boarded through. Ximena and Undulil were no longer with him. He thought about Ximena, how pale she looked, the sweat dripping from her face. He didn’t know her, but she had read him correctly: he did trust her and he wanted her to be okay. He focused his mind on Ximena, and how he could get the two of them out of this situation. The fear that had overwhelmed him when the cargo doors opened, revealing an all-too-familiar docking bay, was still there, waiting to envelop him like a sinking sand. He needed to be careful, or panic would overwhelm him again.

The three troopers whose rough hands gripped him by the arms dragged him into the bellows of the vessel, until they arrived at the brig. A cell door whooshed open in front of him, and Finn was thrown in. The door whisked shut before he hit the floor. It was cold inside the cell. Finn lay where he fell for several long minutes. He took ragged breaths. A sharp pain flared in his chest whenever he exhaled. His tongue cautiously explored the wounded interior of his mouth. He spat a broken tooth out beside him, encased in a wad of coagulating blood. Pushing himself up on his hands, he surveyed the cell he had visited in so many nightmares.

Now that he was finally here, it was a strangely surreal experience. He felt as if he were floating above the whole scenario, looking down on the cell, rather than looking up from its cold steel floor.

Four dark bare walls enclosed him in the tiny room, furnished with a latrine and a squat bunk built into the wall on his right. A single lamp in the ceiling filled the cell with a harsh light. The floor had no texture. The walls were the blandest shade of grey Finn could imagine. The door that had closed behind him blended seamlessly into the walls, so that he couldn’t even be certain he had been thrown through a door. Perhaps he had simply been here all along. Maybe he had never escaped the First Order. Maybe he had been sent for re-education and had simply ended up here. This train of thought frightened Finn, but once it began he found he couldn’t arrest it, and it rolled on without him to its logical conclusions. He had imagined everything. None of it was real. The escape with Poe. The crash on Jaku. The attack on Takodana. The attack on Starkiller base. Waking up in the medic wing. Poe’s departure. The crash on the Ilium planet. He had imagined it all. Worst, though, he had imagined freedom, which had never truly been his.

The pounding in his head reached a sudden crescendo, and a wave of nausea rolled over him. Finn dragged himself to the latrine and vomited. Spent, he lay back on the cold floor, gazing up at the light above him. Beads of sweat dripped down the sides of his forehead, becoming lost in the matted blood encrusting his hair. The pain in his chest continued with each breath. He tried breathing shallower. He closed his eyes, and might have fallen asleep.

Somehow, Poe came to his mind. The look on Poe’s face when they saw each other across the tarmac following the battle on Takodana. Poe, reading to him beside his bed, his soft warm voice filling him up from the inside out. Poe, letting his hand linger as he brushed away a tear on his face. Poe, wrapping his arm around him as he took unsteady steps around his room under Octavia’s watchful gaze. Poe, sitting with him under the light of a comet, holding him in a way he had never been held. Poe, kissing him, his warm, wet mouth, and sharp tongue.

Finn opened his eyes again. He slowly sat up and he knew. He had not imagined any of it, not a minute of it. For a few blissful weeks, he had known freedom. He had known what freedom felt like, what it looked like, how it tasted, how it smelled. He was not going to give up. He was not going to let them win. Finn was going to fight.


	17. The Break Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn's plan to fight back is put into motion, perhaps a bit sooner than he had expected.

At least a few hours had passed since he had been thrown in the cell. Finn was sitting on the bunk, his back against the cool wall, trying to calm the pounding in his head, when he heard a thud from the corridor. It was quickly followed by another, louder thud. Finn pushed himself up from the bunk, bracing against the wall, facing the wall with the door. Another, louder thud shook the walls he was encased in, followed by the unmistakeable sounds of rending metal and a blaster being discharged. Finn cast his eyes around him, already knowing there was nothing he could use in the cell. Then, the door whooshed open. White smoke was billowing into the corridor. Outlined in the doorframe was a tall, hooded man. Finn noticed one of his hands was roboticized.

Behind the man Finn saw an unforgettable blue light saber glowing.

“Rey,” he whispered.

“Finn!” Rey cried out. She stowed the lightsaber, pushing past the man and into the cell, and grabbed Finn in a tight hug. He gasped in pain. “You’re hurt!” She held him at arms length, taking in his injuries, a look of concern etched on her face, competing with something else. He searched her face, finding the familiar intensity lurking in her gaze, forehead creased in concentration. “Can you walk?”

He hesitated. Her voice had a clear note of urgency. He knew he wouldn’t be able to move very quickly. “Course I can,” said Finn, a grin spreading across his face. “But what the hell are you doing here?”

“I promise, I’ll explain everything. But we have to get the others.” Finn looked at her questioningly.

“Rey, we need to move,” said the man, still standing at the door.

“Finn,” Rey said, turning to the man, “This is Luke Skywalker.”

The white smoke was growing thicker, but through the increasing haze, Finn caught a glimpse of the man’s face, creased with sharp laugh lines, but also with pain. The man offered him a brief nod. Finn nodded in return.

“We don’t have much time,” said Rey, guiding Finn into the corridor. “Organa and her crew should have here, but it seems they moved some prisoners to another location. There are still two others further down, did they come in with you?”

“Yeah, that’s probably Ximena and Undulil, they were with me. Ximena was injured pretty badly.”

He followed Rey down the corridor, Skywalker behind them. “They’re in here,” said Rey, motioning to a cell identical to Finn’s. Disturbed, Finn saw the door was transparent, from the outside at least. He could see Ximena was lying prone on the bunk, her face obscured by Undulil who crouched over her. Rey entered something in the keypad and the door whisked open.

Undulil reacted swiftly, charging toward the door. Finn had to admit it, the guy had a lot of nerve. Rey rolled to the side, and then came down hard on the back of his neck, knocking him solidly to the floor.

“We’re not the First Order! We’re busting you out,” said Rey.  

Undulil looked up, catching sight of Finn, slowly taking in the situation. Finn stepped over him to Ximena, who was still deathly pale and unconscious. “What were you doing to her?” he said through gritted teeth.

Undulil raised himself up from the floor, staring at Finn with disdain. Finn rushed at him, pushing him up against the cell wall, hands at his neck. “I asked you a question.”

“Finn, we don’t have time for this!”

“I was trying to help her you fool,” Undulil spat.

“We’ve got company.” Skywalker crouched in the corridor behind them, which was still filling with smoke, then he fired his blaster twice. Two voices cried out from the haze. “There’s more on the way, a lot more. Unless you want to face them with your bare hands, I suggest we get out of here. Now.”

Finn glared at him for a moment, then released Undulil’s front. Rey had been standing over Ximena. “Finn, here, she’s awake, but she’s going to need support, can each one of you take a side?” Finn and Undulil’s eyes were icy, but they each approached Ximena, putting an arm under her and lifting her to her feet. She smiled at Finn weakly.

“I’m Rey,” said Rey.

“I know who you are, and I know who you think you are,” said Undulil, dismissive. He turned to Skywalker. “So, Jedi, what’s your magical plan to get us out of here?”

“Still working on that one actually,” said Rey, with a meaningful glance at Finn. “Come on.”

**

Several levels above them, Kylo Ren stood in a familiar interrogation chamber, identical to the one he had used when trying to extract the location of the droid from the Jedi girl. A disturbance in the force had pulled him there. It had been many weeks since that day: the day of his greatest failure, and also of his greatest success. While he had failed to seduce the girl to the dark side of the force, and had been left broken and bloody on the surface of the disintegrating military base, he had triumphed over his father, channeling the power of his grandfather, overcoming the blood coursing through his veins and striking him down before Starkiller Base was destroyed. The memory of that moment coursed through him, giving him strength. He had triumphed over his father, but he knew, despite Snoke’s platitudes, that his mother was an altogether different challenge. He needed to focus. It was not his mother that drew him here, though that final challenge drew imminently closer.

Kylo Ren closed his eyes, concentrating his energies on the fluctuations that had drawn him to this chamber. It was like slipping into a cool pool of water, wading deeper and deeper, until his head slipped under the surface. Something was wrong.

He strode from the chamber into the corridor. Echoing from some distance was the distinctive sound of blaster fire. A calm voice filled the corridor: “Security breach on deck 72, corridor H. Dispatch alert level 2.” Kylo Ren swallowed, struggling to take deep breaths and centre his energies as Snoke had been carefully instructing him. A gloved hand approached the purple scar that cut his face in half, but he halted its progress halfway, instead reaching for his belt, he pulled out his lightsaber. The familiar hum of the saber calmed him. He glanced at the approaching corridor: F. The sound of the skirmish grew louder, and was accompanied by another disembodied voice that filled the corridor: “Security breach on the brig. Dispatch alert level 2.”  

Before Kylo Ren had time to contemplate this latest message, a Stormtrooper was suddenly thrown against the corridor wall ahead of him, a gaping red burn in his chest from a blaster. The trooper fell limply to the floor, dead. Another trooper backed into the corridor and promptly had an arm nearly blown off. The trooper screamed in agony, grasping the useless, wasted limb, falling to the floor in a growing pool of blood.

A figure burst into the corridor in front of him, accompanied by two others. Her hair had fallen from a tight bun on top of her head, loose grey tendrils framing her clear blue eyes. In each hand she grasped a blaster. She turned to him.

“Hello mother.”


	18. Time to Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited with an old friend, Finn works with the others to try and find a way out of the clutches of the First Order, but is in for more unexpected surprises.

“So let me get this straight,” said Finn, “You left R2D2 and Chewie in charge of the Millennium Falcon, and that’s the only escape plan here? Aren’t the Jedi supposed to be, I don’t know, good at making plans or masters of the spiritual forces or something?”

The five of them crouched at the end of a corridor, cornered in by an unexpected group of Stormtroopers who had surprised them as they reached deck 72.

“Technically, he’s the only Jedi,” said Rey, nodding at Skywalker as she discharged the blaster into the ceiling further down the corridor, cutting the lights and filling the corridor with fiery sparks.

“And if you look at it historically, the Jedi weren’t particularly good at planning. After all, they were exterminated almost totally with the rise of the Empire.” Skywalker offered this over his shoulder as he jimmied with a panel behind them, hoping to open the sealed door to a service shaft.

Finn checked the remaining charges in the blaster he had picked up from one of the fallen troopers they’d ambushed in the transport elevator. Another blaster limp in Undulil’s hand, who was gently sliding Ximena to the floor, fury etched onto his expressive face.

“Rey, come on, there’s no way we can fight our way out of here,” whispered Finn, leaning in close to Rey’s ear. A blaster blew a hole in the corridor wall next to Undulil’s head. The man finally raised his weapon and leaned forward, scowling as he fired into the darkened corridor.

“Honestly, this whole bit caught us off guard --,” started Rey.

“Ha! Got it, come on, quickly.” Skywalker directed them through the panel that had slid open beside where Ximena leaned, pale and breathing shallowly, her eyes closed. “You two take her, I’ll cover you.”

The panel opened onto a narrow service shaft, criss-crossed with layers of intricate insulated energy channels, carrying information and power to and from the ship’s many recesses. Finn and Undulil each hooked an arm under Ximena. Her eyes barely fluttered as they lifted her. Finn avoided Undulil’s intense glare as they dragged her into the shaft.

“Hurry up would you!” Skywalker hissed, and again Finn questioned how they could possibly make it out of the ship alive. He stumbled forward in the shaft, walking crablike along the narrow corridor, half-dragging Ximena, who was being pushed along by Undulil behind him. The noise of blaster fire seemed to grow closer. Finn checked his shoulder to see that Rey had entered the shaft behind them, closely followed by Skywalker. Finn searched his memory of Star Destroyer anatomy for something that could help them out of this situation. He knew they were headed in the direction of a hangar bay further down deck 72, but between the bay and their current location were too many Stormtroopers to possibly face. The force of an explosion rocked Finn forward, throwing Ximena roughly on top of him. A wave of heat washed over him. Scrambling to his feet, he saw the panel they’d entered through had been melted shut.

“Now’s not the time for a rest, folks!” Skywalker’s laugh had an uncomfortable edge to it. Rey appeared at his side, helping Finn boost Ximena from the floor. Together they dragged Ximena down the narrowed passageway. The pain in Finn’s chin and back had nearly disappeared with the rush of adrenaline he’d been riding since his cell door had whisked open, but as they struggled through the service shaft, Finn’s head and back began to throb with pain, mirroring his pounding heart. He glanced at Rey and saw she was staring at him with concern.

“Are you sure --,” she started.

“I’m fine,” Finn said, more tersely than he intended. “Really,” he said, his voice softening. “We just need to get out of here. This way should take us to the hangar bay.” Finn gestured down a branching shaft to the right. Rey hesitated.

“Finn,” she started again. Realization dawned on him: they weren’t here for him.

“No, Rey, you can’t. No, I won’t go along with it, whatever you’re planning is a suicide mission. This is a damn Star Destroyer and there’s no Resistance here to back us up this time!”

“Finn --.”

“No, Rey!”

“Listen,” said Skywalker, his hooded face darkened in the dim lighting of the passage. “Frankly, this has been a long-time coming, and it’s bigger than you or Rey for that matter. Now Rey’s agreed to help. No one is forcing you to come along. You said yourself, that passage should take you to the hangar bay. You can get your friend to safety. But Rey and I have business here, and we’re not leaving until it’s finished.”

Finn, incredulous, looked from Skywalker’s hardened expression to Rey, who was avoiding his gaze. “Business? Rey, come on, this is ridiculous!”

“No, Finn,” said Rey, looking at him fiercely. “I need to stay. I need to finish this now. I need to help Luke. You can go.” Her face softened. “You should go.” Her eyes flashed again, something dark buried deep, but her words pulled him back to an earlier discussion the two of them had back on Takodana, in Maz’s time-honoured watering hole. There, he had tried to convince Rey to go with him as well, and she had asked him to stay. Something had changed though. They both had changed, it seemed. She was no longer asking him to stay, instead she was telling him to leave. Finn wondered, finally, where Rey had been all this time.

“What happened out there?” His voice was a whisper. He offered the question, not expecting an answer, knowing he should have asked sooner. Something had happened. The hardened look in her eyes, the coiled way she held her body, ready to spring, like a trap. Then, unexpected, her face registered uncertainty, fear even. She opened her mouth to respond. “Later,” Finn said, “You don’t have to say anything now. It’s okay, Rey. We’ll have time later.” She looked relieved, and smiled briefly, before Luke reached out and touched her shoulder. Her face assumed its sharp resolve.

A few feet in front of them, a blaster ripped through another panel, exposing the shaft, and sending smoke into the shaft. Through the hole a small figure was unceremoniously deposited, followed almost immediately by another. Then, stepping through the twisted metal was an unforgettable figure: it was Poe Dameron.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and damp strands of disheveled hair stuck up on his head. He hadn’t yet registered the group of five standing a few feet further down the shaft, and turned to inspect the two small figures beside him. He pushed back his hair from his eyes, smearing soot across his forehead. He looked down the corridor, and their eyes met.

Finn’s heart soared, pounding thunderously in his chest. “Poe,” he whispered, and then, somehow, he was in his arms, he was holding him, pressing his face against his sweaty cheek, inhaling the scent of smoke and the sweet sharp smell of him filled him up, his lips grazing the stubble darkening his cheek. Poe’s powerful arms were wrapped around him, holding him tightly, as if trying to press himself up into every crevice of Finn’s body.

Before either of them could speak, a violent explosion threw them both from their feet.


End file.
